


A Dirty Carnival

by Minka



Category: Jrock, the GazettE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Hackers, Alternate Universe - Police, Gen, M/M, No crying whimpy Ruki, Private Investigators, Set in the early 80's, That fic from 11 years ago that people still ask for, Yakuza, counterfeit artists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2020-08-14 09:17:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 171,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20189899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minka/pseuds/Minka
Summary: Tokyo’s criminal underworld, while hidden from daylight, has never managed to stay beneath the streets of Kabukichō. Gang wars frequently spill into the public eye much to the morbid delight of onlookers and tourists. It can be seen as horrific, sadistic or even fascinating but what everyone agrees on is that it can be a damn good show.For those living within the world of the Yakuza the story is a lot different.Nobody is what they seem and everybody is running from something; police, assassins or a meddling private investigator with too many questions.The only thing that can be taken as god-honest truth is that when the lives of a wanted computer hacker and a tough-talking counterfeit artist collide, nothing will ever be the same and the streets will feel the vibrations for years to come.





	1. Authors Notes - IMPORTANT - Please read

Ok. 

So. 

This fic gets referenced a lot and requested even more and I swear that it will (lovingly) haunt me to my dying day. 

I’ve kept it hidden away because I’ve always had this idea in my head that I could turn it around. Do like that chick did with 50 Shades of Grey and take the story out of fandom and into something that could be published. 

That was the dream, still IS the dream, but years later I still haven’t done it. So… yeah. 

Anyway, I do have a few things that I would like people to understand before this all goes ahead. 

**RESPECT.**

I pulled this fic from the net years ago for a few reasons. Mostly, it was because of the above. Even now, I hold the dream of one day getting this fully sorted and finished, stripping out the fandom and battling with potential agents over a 1980s set Japanese yakuza fic. 

The other reason was fandom outright stealing the idea and, most annoyingly, the characters. 

Yes, it is fandom and yes, it’s Aoi and Ruki and Atsushi and Wataru (OMG; he was my best creation!) who are people that you know, but the characterizations are my own. I used aspects of their stage personas and moulded them into fully-fledged characters that fit into this world that I’d created. 

Back when fandom was moving fast and Jrock RPs were a thing, I used to come across the stolen version of my characters a lot. Especially Aoi. I’d find him everywhere! He’d love movies and hate fish and ride motorbikes while being awkward. Later, as the story expanded (and I was one of the forerunners of lynch. fanfic) I’d come across my Hazuki ALL THE FUCKING TIME!! 

Yes, imitation is a form of flattery, but it’s also just outright stealing. 

So don’t do it. 

**Please don’t share this story anywhere else. ** If you see people looking for it, link them here. Don’t send them a copy. If you use the download feature to read as you go/as a whole once it’s all posted, NEVER send the file to someone else. 

Please. Please respect this. 

**If, during the weeks it’s going to take to post, I do a google search and find this fic anywhere else, I WILL pull the whole thing down and it will never surface again, no matter how many people ask for it. **

So don’t be a dick and a ruin it for everyone else. 

😊

**REMEMBER.**

This was originally posted 11 years ago! ELEVEN YEARS AGO! 

Those of you who were around then, have probably heard the story of how this fic came about. Honestly, I was being a bitch and saying “I could do better!” about a lot of fics that were popular back then. (Charming, right?) 

Anyway, I ended up having to put my money where my mouth was after I was called out on this fact by a friend. 

This is the story that resulted. 

Now, I am super, super proud of it as a whole, as well as the sequel that was never finished (posting wise) and the planned insane twist conclusion to the trilogy that was never talked about in fandom. 

Having said that, I actually hate how this fic starts. 

The first few chapters aren’t up to my personal standards, even to the me that was writing this years and years ago. I looked back at these starter chapters and balked. Now that feeling’s even worse. 

Having said that, for the sake of my own sanity and this dying fandom, I’m posting this without any reworks or rewriters. It’s literally being copied and pasted off the Private Lock entries that still exist on my journal. 

It’s coming to you how it was originally posted, with no rewrites, and including all the same typos. 

Basically, if you’re coming to this fic from the likes of The Price of Spring and Summer Rain, then these first few chapters aren’t up to my writing standard, and I’m more than sure that you’ll be able to see the difference. I also didn’t understand the world that I was creating at the start. I had the idea, and I had the crazy plot twists, but I had no clue how large it would become, both for me as a writer and for the readers.

I think, at the start, I never actually thought I’d be able to pull it all together and finish it, nor did I understand how much it would change me as a writer, and how much it would help me grow.

It’s not until about chapter 7 that I really started trying and it’s from there (and damn, you’ll know the scene when you get to it) that I really became comfortable with this story and started putting 200% effort into it. 

Just know that it does get better, and I did find my own as I went along and that the finished result (not to blow my own horn here, but… yeah) totally makes up for the rocky start and became quite the sensation. 

Anyway, please take the above into consideration. If you’re reading this for the first time or reading it again after all these years, please leave your thoughts. Comments really are cookies! 

Chapters will come up weekly. 


	2. Prologue - The Hacker, the Smartass and the Detective

  
*****  
  
Prologue

The Hacker, the Smartass and the Detective.  
  
  
*****

  
“Good,” the instructor said as the young man’s closed fist pounded into the very centre of the punch mitt. “Now try a right hook, jab, cross, left hook.”  
  
Not even pausing to consider the combination, Aoi followed through with the instructions. Right hook. Jab. Cross. Left hook – remember to throw your weight into it, Aoi told himself as he rolled his shoulder and swivelled his body at the hips.  
  
“Good.” Aoi’s trainer took a step back under the force of the blows, a small smile on his lips.  
  
Aoi ignored the look on the man’s face and waited for the next set of instructions. He listened with only half an ear, finding his body flowing into the complex moves with ease and began beating against the protective mitt before the trainer had even finished the set.  
  
His fists moved as if they weren’t even his. Each and every time they landed into the centre of the padding, driving his personal trainer back even as the man continued to shout out moves. Their sessions always ended like this. Unlike the beginning where everything was perfectly timed and executed for an adequate warm-up, the last set would last as long as both men could handle.  
  
As the trainers words came to an end, Aoi slammed his fist in what was an incredibly deadly right jab before spinning on his left foot and planting his right square into the centre of the raised mitt.  
  
“You been seeing someone else?” the man laughed as Aoi’s last kick caused his ankle to buckle against the concrete floor.  
  
“Sorry,” Aoi muttered as he pushed an untamed section of fringe out of his eyes. He’d overstepped that last attack and while it was powerful, had he been in a real fight, anyone with enough training could have swiped his feet clean out from under him.  
  
“Do I need to tell you what was wrong with that or are you already chastising yourself for it?”  
  
Aoi grinned at the man as he started to unwind the tight strapping that covered both knuckles. “Way ahead of you,” Aoi muttered.  
  
A cough off to the side of the room saw both men turning their heads and Aoi spied a familiar figure. He honestly had no clue what the guys name was, but he always came in at the same time every day for the same training that Aoi did. Once or twice Aoi had considered making conversation with the tall, dark haired man, but one way or another he never got around to it. Plus, he really wasn’t much of a people person.  
  
“Same time tomorrow?” his trainer asked and Aoi nodded. As the man went off to greet his next student, Aoi grabbed the remainder of his stuff and wandered off in the direction of the main entrance.  
  
Pulling the hair tie along the small ponytail, Aoi let his short, black hair fall back around his face. Running his hand through it and giving it a slight flick to separate the sweat covered strands; he rotated his shoulders and stretched his neck.  
  
This was the part that he liked. The time when he felt his burning muscles start to relax and the tension flee from his body. Sure, the workout was good, the idea that he could stand up for himself even better, but the thing that he loved was the simple feeling of having finished some serious exercise. Having worked off those extra pounds that were gained every night when he sat at his computer idly snacking on various foods while either conducting his searches or completing a hacking job.  
  
That was the thing that hardly anyone knew. Not his trainer, not his doctor; no one that knew even the most intimate things about him. He was a professional hacker, one of the best for that matter, and the face behind the typed name of ‘Yurei’, who was currently the police’s hottest target.  
  
Shouldering his backpack, Aoi pushed open the door and made his way through the near deserted gym. The place was nothing flash, in fact it was by far one of the worst appearing buildings that he had ever seen. The plaster was slowly lifting from the walls, obviously having suffered years of abuse from water damaged and the same thing was happening with the ceiling. One time a strip of destroyed plaster wall had actually fallen from the ceiling and landed only a few inches from where he was standing. The lights were dim with a sort of yellow tinge to them which only enhanced the state of disrepair that the walls were kept in. The floor was basic cement; nothing covering it and no attempts had been made to make it appear as anything but. The only thing that marred it was the long darkened patches of water markings, and the blood and sweat that had obviously not been cleaned up before they had permanently stained the surface of the concrete.  
  
As he walked through the main large room, taking in all his surroundings as if it were his first time there, Aoi knew that was probably why he liked the place; the shabby condition that the building was in. It made him feel safe in a way. Here he was just one of the crowd. One of the many people in the city that could not afford to go to one of those flash gyms with their glass lined walls and small bar system out the back. Here he was faceless, just like all the people that surrounded him. Sure, they had names, most of which he knew and they knew his, but they were nobody’s, struggling school janitors, or the modern day goods-peddler whose only means of making money was by selling his wears on market day. There were no lawyers, no bankers, and no law enforcement officers here. No one that could possibly stand to be a threat to him even if his other identity was ever discovered and that, Aoi found, was a great reassurance. That he could still fit in and not be noticed despite the things that he had done and seen, read and the crimes that he had committed.  
  
The doors of the gym, wooden and glass plated though not of high quality, loomed up ahead, marking the end of this feeling of safety and the beginning of the real and dangerous world. Hand tightening around the sole strap of the backpack that hung loosely over his right shoulder, Aoi rounded the corner, completely unaware of the gaze that followed him from the back of the small foyer.  
  
“Hey Aoi,” a man called out as he was about to push open the doors. “When am I gonna get that phone call and that hot date?”  
  
Aoi just sighed at the man’s words and shook his head slightly, though a smile did tug at the corners of his mouth. Pushing open the door but turning to face the man as he walked backwards out onto the top step, he replied with a small laugh. “Keep waiting, Jimmy, it’ll come...” and with that he was outside, muttering, “...when hell freezes over,” as he felt the heavy door swing shut on its hinges.

  
  
*****  
  
  
The bottle spun in the air, the dark liquid glimmering in the flashing, multicoloured lights. A few people gasped, one even dared to clap and then before they knew what was going on, the bottle was safely back in the speed rail and the glass in front of the waiting client.  
  
“Thousand yen,” Ruki said to the man with a jab of his chin, “Got n’change in the till s’make it correct else the rest is tips. Whacha drinkin’?” His words bled into one another as he shouted them out over the noise of the packed club, making his gutter-rat accent even more pronounced. Not that it mattered cause he didn’t have time for chitchat or dramatic pauses anyway. Not tonight.  
  
“Vodka and lime,” the man called back while Ruki removed the one thousand, five hundred yen the other man had left with a smile. There was one good thing with nights like tonight; great tips.  
  
“Outta lime,” Ruki said as he flicked a glass out of the rack and spun up the vodka bottle. He poured an even nip, judging just by eye before covering the bottle nozzle with his finger to abruptly cut off the flow of liquor. “S’its vodka straight.” He dropped the bottle back into place and handed the glass over at the same time. The man didn’t complain – no one ever did when Ruki was making the drinks – and simply handed over the correct cash for a vodka and lime.  
  
“Rum!” a voice called from the end of the bar.  
  
Even Ruki didn’t know how he had heard it, but his hand roamed over the assorted bottles and grabbed the neck of one. Without having to look, he yanked it out of the rail and yelled, “Comin’ down.” With a causal toss behind his back, he sent the bottle flying down the other end of the bar where it landed in the hands of the only other competent bartender on that night.  
  
Uruha gave him a small nod of thanks but that was it. There was no time for pleasantries between the staff. Two of the usual workers had called in sick. Well, no, one had called in sick. Jui, the other hadn’t been seen or heard from in days and considering how much he loved his job that sort of silence was never good in this side of town. Ruki had already filed him into the never to be seen again group in his mind. That was until the body was pulled out of somewhere, rotting and stinking up some unfortunate person’s place and the whole unpretty mess was revealed.  
  
The other ‘bartender’ that they had the thrill of working with was on strict orders to keep to cleaning glasses. He was fucking useless – Uruha would argue that he was actually beyond unless and Ruki tended to agree – and after dropping a bottle of rum and screwing up two drinks, Ruki had pulled the plug. Besides, the kid was just getting in his and Uruha’s way.  
  
“How about a quick fuck?” a deep voice called over the bar. Not bothering to look up, Ruki just kept going and grabbed a shot glass.  
  
“I’m gonna assume ya meant the shot cos ya in the wrong place for anythin’ else.” Layering the alcohols over each other, Ruki stole a glance at the man. He was tall, quite stocky in build and held the hint of something foreign in his features. The type of guy Ruki would normally go for if he wasn’t so rushed; in fact that was a blessing and a curse all in one. He’d been warned against turning tricks straight from the bar and he really didn’t need any more run-ins with the cops.  
  
“I don’t drink,” the man said with a smirk. Ruki rolled his eyes and grabbed the shot glass. He tipped his head back and he threw the shot down. The alcohol left a pleasant burning sensation in the back of his throat which travelled all the way down to warm his stomach. Licking his lips, he tried to savour the taste for as long as possible before speaking again.  
  
“Try the dive next door.” The short bartender slid the shot glass down the bar towards the glassy while getting the needed ingredients for the next cocktail on order. “’Shot’ll still cost ya. Thousand yen.”

  
  
*****  
  
  
The papers made a nice mess on the desk. Cluttered, uneven, torn and crimpled, there was absolutely no method to the madness that faced the detective. Even the way the documents miraculously wrapped around the discarded coffee cups held no real order. Phones rang in the distance, people talked and footsteps could be heard pattering all over the floor but it was the papers that held his attention.  
  
One particular set of footsteps approached him and then stopped. Air kissed the detectives face and rustled his dark hair as the stranger offered a deep, stiff bow before straightening and standing at attention.  
  
“You must be Sakurai Atsushi,” the stranger’s deep voice stated. Atsushi could feel the tall youth’s eyes locked onto him even as the kid bowed again. “Kawauchi Toru.”  
  
With his name exposed and no way left to avoid the young man, Atsushi merely snorted in response as he continued to stare at the morbidly hypnotizing desk. It would have been polite to turn and actually look at the guy or even just offer him a small half bow – hell, a nod even – but Atsushi wasn’t there to make friends.  
  
This kid was the third partner he’d been assigned this year alone. They never stayed long so there really wasn’t much point in getting to know them.  
  
“It’s a real honour to be working with you,” Toru said and Atsushi could see him bowing again out of the corner of his eye.  
  
After awhile Atsushi started to feel sorry for them, especially these fresh faced cadets. They came in with all these hopes and dreams of making a difference and setting things right and Atsushi wondered how long it actually took for them to break. Did it feel like it had for him? That all too clear moment of despair when you find yourself looking at everything around you and seeing only corruption.  
  
Atsushi had long lost track of those who had been exposed for having links with the Yakuza and other organized crime faculties. Sadly their faces tended to meld into one, mixing with those very few good cops who’d let their guards down and been pulled out of a trashcan the next morning. Even Atsushi was surprised that he had somehow lasted so long, especially since he specialised in the cases revolving around the three main Yakuza clans.  
  
“I’ve heard so much about you,” Toru continued. Atsushi rolled his eyes. The kid was ranting, gushing and Atsushi wasn’t able to suppress the shudder of embarrassment he felt for the boy. The kid – whatever his name was – would regret this moment one day, no doubt when his dreams came shattering down to be crunched underfoot.  
  
“Some of the work you have done… it’s… it’s… legendary,” Toru continued. Atsushi merely rolled his eyes as he prodded at a certain file only to have a whole stack fall clear off the desk and splay out over the chair and floor. “I made an in-depth study of your cases in the academy and the way you think and execute your ideas is flawless, even if it does tend to go against the rule book.  
  
“You’re my hero,” Toru finally concluded with a hint of a laugh. “I know that sounds somewhat stereotypical and all, but you are. The way you exposed the corruption of the Superintendent was-”  
  
Finally giving up on the desk in front of him, Atsushi turned and locked his dark eyes onto Toru’s. To the kid’s credit, he didn’t flinch or look away or even show the smallest signs of being uncomfortable.  
  
Atsushi inwardly scoffed. He was right when he’d assumed that it was just another kid. Straight out of the academy no doubt. Tall and slender, his new partner wore his grey suit with pride and held a dreamy, enrapt look on his pale face. Blond hair sat down straight against the collar of his jacket and his light eyes held a deep intelligence.  
  
“First things first,” Atsushi said, cutting the other’s ranting short. He didn’t need a step by step reminder of all the things he’d done. “This is your new desk. I expect never to see it this unclean. Nothing functions without order and paperwork is not exempt from that rule. Get it in order; the files belong in that cabinet there.”  
  
Regarding the kid with a sigh, Atsushi tried not to show his displeasure at getting partnered off with yet another rookie. Then again, no one established within the force was really willing to work with him. While, on the whole, most of Atsushi’s partners were actually clean and crime free, they had a tendency to end up getting picked up with a bucket and sponge. The corrupt ones stayed miles away from Atsushi and the straight ones did their best not be to seen with him in public out of fear for their own lives.  
  
Atsushi really didn’t blame them either. He’d known it was a stupid idea to declare war on the Yakuza and not surprisingly, he was the only cop willing to do it.  
  
“Come and get me once you are finished.”  
  
“Yes sir,” Toru said with a nod which he followed with another deep bow.  
  
No, Atsushi wasn’t there to make friends. He was there to try and make a difference, to set things right and unlike all those who he’d been paired off with over the years, he was determined not to fail.

  
  
*****  
  
**Chapter one preview:**  
  
  
“You wanna go shopping?” Uruha asked. Ruki could see him starting to get twitchy. For whatever reason the taller bartender hated to stay in one place for too long. He put it down to having gypsy blood in him – a notion that Ruki found completely preposterous – and that whenever the wind blew north he had a strong desire to follow it. Not that north really mattered, as Ruki had noticed, but as long as they were outside and nigh on freezing their asses off then Uruha was happy.  
  
  
*****


	3. Chapter One - With Friends like these...

*****

**Chapter One**

With Friends like these...

*****

  
Aoi exhaled a sigh of relief as he saw the tall apartment building looming ahead in the distance. Picking up his pace, he hurried towards it, feeling more exposed than what was normal. He had never been one to feel nervous at night – the darkness was a home for people like him – but all the way home he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had been watching him.  
  
Taking the steps two at a time, Aoi paid no attention to the graffiti covered stone railings that lead into the building, nor the names scrawled on the red bricks that rose up from the dirty pavement.  
  
The place was deserted, had been since he had been there but through the connections of the two others that he worked with, they had somehow managed to keep the electricity and phone lines hooked up, at least in some of the rooms. And so it had become his home; a building more dilapidated then the gym and covered in that much filth that it made the old places like Whitechapel, London and The Five Points in old New York look like palaces.  
  
Wrenching the door open, the hinges having started to rust long ago, Aoi moved with determination through the main foyer and towards the lift. The doors opening as soon as he pressed the button assured him that no one had been in there since he left and so he quickly stepped into the small lift and pressed the button for the basement.  
  
When the elevator finally dinged the last floor and the doors opened, it was as if he was stepping out into a different world. Granted that it was nothing earth shattering like the things that you see in secret agent TV shows and spy movies – where they emerge into a white corridor full of switches and sealed rooms that could only be unlocked with a swipe card – but it was still pretty amazing. The walls were all freshly painted in the last few years, the carpet new and clean and the lights that lined the hallway were all in working order. The only door at the end of the hall was closed, as always, and as Aoi made his way down the corridor, he could see the many deadbolts and locks that lined the right side.  
  
Plunging his hand into the front compartment of his bag, Aoi rummaged around until he found the large ring of keys which he then used to flick each catch, matching the key to the lock with practiced ease.  
  
What awaited him when he opened the door was a large room with wooden floors and a small open and only recently added kitchen off to the left. A few chairs were in the right corner, surrounding a small TV and marking the entrance to two doors, one being the small room that he occupied and the other the tiny bathroom. At the back of the main room, there was another door, standing slightly ajar, which led into the computer room and the place that he spent most of his time.  
  
Throwing the keys on the small, plastic topped table, Aoi flung his bag in the general direction of his room and wandered towards the computer room, the noises coming from within too intriguing to ignore.  
  
Standing by the door, he watched as Miyavi, one of the others that he apparently ‘worked with’ – though it was more like ‘for’ – scurried about the room, moving various objects in an attempt to put some order to the clutter.  
  
As he rotated his shoulder, feeling the muscles finally starting to protest against everything he had put them through, Aoi watched Miyavi, knowing full well that Miyavi was aware of his presence.  
  
“I don’t know why you do it, Yūrei,” Miyavi muttered as he shifted a stack of floppy-discs from the computer table. He said it in a way that seemed as if he could hear the tired scream of Aoi’s joints.  
  
“Don’t use that name,” Aoi said right off the mark and as an automatic reaction. Moving from the doorway and slumping down into a seat, his back pressed the movable rest of the chair as far as it would go. Aoi watched as Miyavi scurried back and forth around the room, moving this and that from one place only to move them back later.  
  
“All I’m saying, ‘Aoi’,” Miyavi emphasized, “is that I don’t know why you put yourself through all that...” he paused, as if looking for the right word to conclude the sentence and prove his point.  
  
“Physical exercise?” Aoi supplemented when it became obvious that Miyavi was in a rut. He was not gifted with a silver tongue, so to speak, but he was deadly with the construction of viruses. Miyavi liked to think of it as expressing himself through actions rather then words.  
  
“Yeah, that’s it,” he said offhandedly as he moved the stack of discs yet again. Aoi watched them get dumped on the floor next to the high pile of paper, the file pockets, the CD stack and the overflowing bin; basically anything that a more suitable place could not be found for.  
  
Rolling his eyes and leaning down to flick the ‘on’ switch of his computer, Aoi just let out a small sigh, one that he knew would alert Miyavi to his withdrawn mood. “I’m sorry if I don’t want to spend all day in here among those long forgotten. I like to know that the world still goes on every once in awhile, which by the way it still does,” he added, switching his tone from what Miyavi would consider reprimanding to sarcastic and almost condescending. “The sun still rises and sets every night, the stars come out and I have even heard rumour that it still occasionally rains! Just in case you were interested.”  
  
“Ha ha,” Miyavi said dryly as he shoved half of the floppy-discs – which he had once again picked up – into the overflowing cupboard and shut the door. “Anyway,” Miyavi said from the other side of the room, “I have a job for you. A good one too!”  
  
With those few words, Aoi felt his speeding heart leap into his throat as the acidic taste of bile filled his mouth, although he would never give the slightest indication of the feeling. It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? He was a hacker, that was his job, and yet every time Miyavi brought him some new and ‘great’ job, he had the same reaction and the same feeling of dread.  
  
“No, I’m not doing any more of your big money jobs!” Aoi insisted, his hands near his face in a sigh of finality. The black piercing through his bottom lip disappeared into his mouth as he started to nibble at it; a sure fire way of knowing that he was nervous. “Not so soon after the last one.”  
  
“Oh come on!” Miyavi whined, his eyes as pleading as they would ever be. He was not the type to make requests let alone beg for anything; he much preferred to give the orders.  
  
He saw himself as the leader of their little operation; ‘Elite Hackers Anonymous’ he liked to call them. He had these delusions that they were like one of those private detective agencies that were everywhere and yet nowhere at the same time. The ones where you could walk past their office three times a day and never notice them, at least not until there was an emergency and then boom, they would be there to solve all your problems.  
  
His theory was as follows. He supplied the safe haven, and phone line and the small makeshift kitchen, all locked away in the basement of an old apartment building that had somehow been overlooked when the demolition crew came through this part of town. That, of course was enough to make him their leader.  
  
‘They’ consisted of three members. The first was Miyavi, a self acclaimed Virus Extraordinaire who went by the alias of ‘Cleaver’. He was your basic run of the mill computer nerd; failed all subjects at school except the I.T ones, thus setting himself aside from the common school geek. He loved computer games, hated the sunshine and was a donut addict.  
  
The deadly thing about Miyavi was the fact that, unlike most in his position and contradictory to what his life suggested, he was tall, dark, handsome despite his extreme appearance and had eyes that could charm just as easily as they could kill. Just looking at him, locking gazes with his darker then normal eyes, was enough to make you want to do whatever he wanted, no questions asked. Aoi guessed that was how he managed to live so easily with such a selected vocabulary. The only other thing that set him off from the casual computer freak was the fact that in less than ten minutes he could create, send and activate a virus that could completely wipe a hard-drive without the person ever knowing.  
  
Kai was the quite one, more so then Aoi. He liked to keep to himself, cook, read books on fantasy and play chess. He had a social life, granted that it was not all that great, but it was more then what Aoi could say for Miyavi. The thing about Kai was that he was not there for his computer skills, which, for the record, were close to non-existent. He was there as he was one of those ‘gifted children’. The type that had completed and passed school with honours in half the time that even a bright child could. In short, he was a genius. You could ask him anything and he would know it; he would not need to think, he would just answer and it would be correct.  
  
That left Aoi. A high school dropout with an alias that was a wanted felon, it was only proper that he would somehow fit into the rag-tag team of individuals. He left school in year nine, opting for a life of excitement and adventure, a move that inevitably left him homeless and disowned by his single, alcoholic father, not that he minded. Six weeks after leaving his home, he met up with Kai and, after a lengthy discussion on his one true passion – computers – he was welcomed into the underground duo where it wouldn’t take long for him to make his mark on the computer world.  
  
“The police are still trying to find the person that stole the last files... I’m not doing it again!” Aoi said firmly and with a streak of command that he normally tried to keep hidden.  
  
“Well then, it’s all good,” Miyavi said with a triumphant smile as he pulled the other swivel chair up next to Aoi’s, “as you are not hacking back into the police database. This is much more exciting.” The gleam in his eyes was unmistakable as he waved the sealed envelope in the air, right in front of Aoi’s face.  
  
“No! I don’t know what’s in there and I don’t want to know!” He exclaimed as he got up from his seat, intent on leaving the conversation at that and yet knowing in his heart that it was far from over. It was never that simple with Miyavi. Never. Anything that he wanted he got; anything that he needed was provided within an instant, no matter what the repercussions.  
  
Making his way through the cluttered room and into the small kitchen, Aoi pulled open the fridge and inspected the content, despite the fact that he knew that there would be nothing in there; nothing save for donuts. Lips pursed together, he opted for a glass of water instead. Rinsing one of the upturned glasses before filling it up, he could hear the creaking from the other room as Miyavi rose and followed him.  
  
Sitting up on the bench, glass of water pushed to his lips, Aoi just watched as Miyavi circled in on what he would consider his prey. A role that Aoi had long been slotted into.  
  
True to his suspicions, Miyavi wandered over to him, a small smile on his face that Aoi had leant to recognize as his ‘I am going to win this and you know it’ smile and the envelope now tucked into his breast pocket.  
  
Taking a hold of Aoi’s knees, Miyavi parted them slightly so he could stand against the bench and leant over to get as close to Aoi’s face as possible. Feeling his blood start to boil, Aoi just took a long drink from the glass and glared at Miyavi. He had long since learnt his lesson not to fight against him; a lesson hard leaned but helpful nonetheless.  
  
His relationship with the other was turbulent to say the least. While they had never officially been lovers, enough had transpired between them to change the dynamic of what was once an edgy friendship. But it was Miyavi’s sense of self that bothered Aoi. Even though Miyavi always knew that Aoi would cave to his will eventually, he had the need to be controlling, to force his way despite Aoi’s obvious discomfort. It had only been recently that Aoi had found that element of control deep within himself and had thus started to make a stand.  
  
“This is big Yūrei!” Miyavi said, effectively ignoring the glare that Aoi shot him over the use of his ‘other’ name. “I know you don’t want to do it, but think of the money.”  
  
Eyebrow raising slightly on its own accord, Aoi tried not be interested; told himself that it was not worth his time...  
  
He never was one to listen to reason.  
  
“How much,” he asked, cursing himself as a smug and satisfied grin spread over Miyavi’s face. He had known all along; known exactly how to get Aoi in. Miyavi always won and Aoi hated him for it.  
  
“It’s the jackpot!” he said excitedly, “it’s the fucking mother load!”  
  
“I said ‘how much’?” Aoi gritted out between his teeth, hating both Miyavi and himself as that small thrill of excitement passed through him at the thought of the payout. Miyavi was a lot of things, most of them bad, but he was never really one to exaggerate on a situation, especially not one as important as money.  
  
“Sixty grand!” Miyavi said, looking right into his eyes so that he could see that tiny, almost nonexistent glint of emotion flicker through Aoi’s dark orbs. “Thirty now, thirty on completion.”  
  
Pulse racing, Aoi had to admit defeat. Ever since he’d arrived here he had been looking for a way out. He hated this city, this ‘job’, these people, the everyday drone that his life had somehow become. What had happened to the ‘adventure’ and ‘excitement’ that he had sacrificed everything for? For that thrill that he saw in the movies? He felt hollow, empty, and incomplete but as was the way with the world, one could only change that if one had the cash to.  
  
“This is it, Yūrei,” Miyavi restated, this time grabbing onto his knees and giving them a tight and excited squeeze. “Just think about it, one job and you can be gone, since you’re so desperate to leave us. One job and you can spend all you time looking for that paradise you are so desperate for.”  
  
“The term is ‘a life’,” Aoi corrected him, his voice neither excited nor frustrated; the only two emotions that he normally allowed to creep into his tone.  
  
“Whatever,” Miyavi brushed it off, “but this is your chance. Do this, and you can leave all this shit behind. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”  
  
Choosing not to answer his question, figuring that the less that Miyavi really knew about him the better, Aoi forced his mind off the contemplation of the money and onto the actual job, which, he reminded herself, he still didn’t know.  
  
“What’s the hack?” he asked, keeping all emotion from his voice; a skill that he was trying desperately to perfect.  
  
“The usual,” Miyavi told him with a secret smile that hinted at a hidden catch. “Someone wants something changed; you have the power to grant that. The usual.”  
  
“Changed where?”  
  
“See, now this bit you are going to love, Yūrei,”  
  
“Aoi,” he corrected.  
  
“Ah nah!” Miyavi said with a small shake of his head. “You, ‘Yūrei’, will love this bit. It is finally something worthy of your talents.”  
  
“Just tell me what it is,” Aoi interrupted before Miyavi could drag it out any longer. An eerie sense of foreboding had crept into him, sending a small shiver down his spine which was sadly not lost to Miyavi. Face turning from excited to what Aoi now knew as mock concern and caring, Miyavi brushed the back of his knuckles over Aoi’s cheek gently before smoothing away his hair; all actions that Aoi greeted with a scowl and nothing more even though his body screamed at him to push Miyavi away.  
  
“I believe in you, Aoi,” Miyavi said softly, almost whispering it into his ear. “You know that, just as you know that you can do anything that you put your mind to. That is why this will be easy. You’ll just have to focus and you will pull it off.”  
  
“Just tell me,” Aoi again demanded. At least he liked to think that it was a demand, but with Miyavi everything was merely a request that he would either grant or deny. It hardly mattered how Aoi asked. Besides, no one demanded anything from Miyavi when he was that close, when his hand was running through your hair, it just wasn’t the way it was done.  
  
“SSD-base.” The words, spoken so simply, without regard or respect to what was known as unobtainable sent yet another shiver down Aoi’s spine. The way that Miyavi treated it as if it were just another public library system to write off someone’s overdue fees seemed so wrong, like he was tempting fate.  
  
One doesn’t just hack into the Secret Services Database for fun, it didn’t work that way. It was where they kept the records of the most heinous criminals, both from Japan and the rest of the world. It was a system available to all those with the topmost clearance around the world and was a primary help in the recent establishment of the Global Police. It wasn’t some playground of wannabe hackers or kids with their hopes set far too high.  
  
It was as if Miyavi could read his mind as while the thoughts where racing through Aoi’s head, Miyavi pulled the envelope from his pocket and squashed it into his hands. “Sixty grand, Aoi – that is all your dreams come true in one job; a job that you know you can do! Do it, your final farewell to the world of the computer criminals and go out with a bang. No one will ever know, just you and me. Kai doesn’t even need to know,” he said softly, soothingly as he continued to run his hand through Aoi’s short hair.  
  
Eyes pressed tightly closed, Aoi was unsure what he was trying to block out; the temptation and overpowering sway of the money or the man’s hand buried within his hair. He’d settle for both but he was sure that fate would see that as him being greedy.  
  
Finally surrendering, admitting defeat in a war that he was set to lose from the very beginning, Aoi just nodded his consent, not needing to open his eyes to see the triumphant look that Miyavi supported. He reached blindly for the envelope, feeling Miyavi place it in his hand. It felt cold; a pliable example of his own broken resolve.  
  
“I knew you’d go for it.”  
  
Miyavi had eyes that could convince you to do anything; Miyavi had eyes that forced you into doing anything out of fear. When one had that talent, who needed words?  


*****

  
  
Ruki tipped the bucket of soapy water down the sink. It sloshed up the sides but thankfully didn’t spill over. Dropping it to the floor he used his boot to shove it under the sink while folding the cloth he’d been using to clean and placing it over the tap.  
  
There was something creepy about the bar after close. It was so quiet, silent like the grave and devoid of all life. The walls would normally be throbbing with the beat of the music, the glasses on the racks vibrating and adding their own chiming rhythm to the intoxicating noise.  
  
Sighing, Ruki lent up against the stainless steel counter and scratched at the base of his dreadlocks. Contact covered eyes scoured the bar, searching for anything that he had forgotten in the clean up. Everything shined under the bright lights. Gleaming, glimmering clean as if all the sins of the night just past had been washed away.  
  
“Finally fuckin’ over,” the short man muttered to himself as he grabbed his jacket and keys. It had been a long night, one of those that all people dreaded. Busy, crowded, loud and understaffed. The bar had been filled three deep with people waiting for their drinks and not even Ruki was able to make up for the blunders of one of the newest bartenders. Once the night had calmed down, Ruki had finally snapped and sent him home. It wasn’t like he was doing anything anyway and in a strange way Ruki preferred closing on his own. It gave him that much needed time to relax; to wind down and stop the ringing of the night’s music from plaguing his ears.  
  
“Want another drink?”  
  
Of course, closing on his own was a silly dream. He looked around in time to see Uruha wandering back into the bar, two glasses of wine in hand and a sly grin on his face. The glass was pushed into Ruki’s hand long before he even had the chance to protest.  
  
“What a night, ‘ay?” Uruha sighed out, leaning against the bar languidly.  
  
Ruki and Uruha shared one of those special friendships wherein it was completely unnecessary to know anything about the other at all. It was quite the feat really, considering that they spent so much time together.  
  
Uruha was one of the few people that Ruki could call a friend, let alone who Ruki voluntary spent time with. They worked the bar together, shared knock-off drinks, and when they were feeling particularly destructive, they’d wander the streets and shops that never seemed to close and dream about all the things that’d buy once their pay checks came in.  
  
It was quite the pleasant existence and while they talked freely with each other, both noted the way that neither offered up any information about their pasts. Thankfully it got to the point where both Uruha and Ruki just stopped wondering. What you don’t know can’t hurt you and that was the very basis of their relationship.  
  
“You wanna go shopping?” Uruha asked. Ruki could see him starting to get twitchy. For whatever reason the taller bartender hated to stay in one place for too long. He put it down to having gypsy blood in him – a notion that Ruki found completely preposterous – and that whenever the wind blew north he had a strong desire to follow it. Not that north really mattered, as Ruki had noticed, but as long as they were outside and nigh on freezing their asses off then Uruha was happy.  
  
“Nah,” Ruki said, shooting Uruha an apologetic glance. “I’m beat.” It was partly true. While Ruki was hardly going home to cuddle up in bed, all he wanted was to be at home, alone and away from people. Just the thought of the crowds and lights and catcalls was enough to make him want nothing more than to hide in the dark.  
  
That was another thing with Uruha. Like Ruki, for whatever reason, he was down on his luck – not that that was unusual in this part of town – and was more than willing to do anything to get ahead. Nights shopping with Uruha normally always led to greater dramas whether it involved the police or some random guy with a hard on and too much money. Above all Ruki really didn’t feel like giving anything away in the shadows of a back alley tonight, no matter how good the cash was.  
  
Besides, he had a rule; only one per night and he’d already met that quota before coming to work.  
  
“Slacker,” Uruha muttered. It wasn’t a harshly spat word, but then again that was something else that Ruki had learnt about the other barkeep. He always had to have the last word. What’s more, Uruha knew he was doing it too, knew that and yet couldn’t stop the need to say something – anything. At first Ruki had egged him on, muttering stuff in reply until he thought Uruha’s head was about to spin 360 and steam would come out of his ears. Now days though, he just let it slide and in a way it was a nice thing to always know how the conversation would end.  
  
“Sorry Uru,” Ruki said. He gave the other a shrug as he dropped his keys into his pocket. “Maybe t’morrow.”  
  
Uruha gulped down the mouthful of wine he had been drink while flapping his arm to get Ruki’s attention. “Not in tomorrow,” he said as he finally swallowed. “Got that thing, you know.”  
  
Ruki nodded. He did know, come to think of it. Not that he had any clue what the ‘thing’ was, but he remembered Uruha telling him about the mysterious appointment and considering the rules of their friendship, Ruki didn’t bother to ask for more details.  
  
“Ya gonna leave me with the incompetent fuck?” Ruki groaned as realization set in. No Uruha, no Jui… it would be a bad night.  
  
“I know, I know.” Uruha always had a way of sounding either overly rushed or far too laid back. At the moment he seemed like the world was about to end and he still had to properly code and catalogue the entire worlds books before the big boom. Stretching down, he adjusted the purple leg warmers that clung to his thighs, a look of disgust on his heavily made-up features. “I’m sorry. I’ll try and get it over with quickly and come in for the rest of the night. But at least it should be quiet.”  
  
“Eh?” Ruki asked. It was never quiet; it just came in varying forms of busy, hectic and downright suicidally demanding.  
  
“Yeah. Remember that new club opening down the road.” Ruki nodded as the memory returned. Some new host and hostess club was opening its door with some huge giveaway night. “So unless it is a huge flop, most of our crowd should be flocking the doors down over there.”  
  
Well, that was a small blessing and he thanked whatever higher being was responsible. Ruki was a damn good bartender but even he wouldn’t be able to serve the whole club on his own.  
  
“Yay fo’ small mercies,” Ruki mumbled. Sure, it would make his night easier but competition was competition and it would suck big time if the place went off with as much hype as people expected.  
  
Forcing himself to remain semi-cheery, Ruki let out a relieving sigh and shot Uruha a dazzling smile. “Anyways, home calls.” Shouldering his jacket and thrusting his keys into the pocket of his jeans, he gave Uruha his best stern look. “Don’t go getting’ ya’self int’ too much trouble…”  
  
Uruha laughed and waved Ruki off like one would an annoying child. “Like you can talk!” he protested. “But go, sleep. I’ll close up here.”  
  
“Thanks,” Ruki said, generally thankful for not having to go through the last of the closing procedures. He made his way to the door of the club, ignoring whatever it was that Uruha said in reply, after all, Uruha always had to have the last word, even if it was irreverent.  
  
A blast of freezing cold air hit him as he pulled the door open, causing his small frame to shudder and his teeth to start chattering. Despite that he stood on the stoop long enough to pull a cigarette from his pocket and light it up.  
  
Sucking in that first breath of nicotine was like oxygen to his starved lungs which was a rather morbid way of looking at it really. Ruki hardly cared though; everyone had to die one day so what was the point of trying to live that perfect, toxin free life?  
  
Ruki pushed his unoccupied hand down into the pockets of his jacket as his eyes fell on the pavement. That was the one problem with working nights; the walk home. While he wasn’t one to be timid, when it was cold and dark, with pregnant clouds gathered overhead and even the moon and stars being out of view, he found it eerie.  
  
On top of that he could swear that hidden eyes were staring at him out of the darkness.  
Watching him like a hungry beast does to its prey.  
  
Cursing his overactive imagination, Ruki forced himself to lift his head and slow down his pace. There was no way in hell that he would allow his mind to spook him and if, by some random chance someone was actually watching him, it wouldn’t do good to portray himself as alone and afraid.  
  
With his head held high he continued down the street, his boot heels clicking against the grimy pavement.  
  
He was well and truly out of the main strip of shops and clubs now, entering into what most city dwellers would consider the slums and housing commission homes. But to Ruki – as well as a hell of a lot of other people – such a dark, dingy little place was home sweet home.  
  
The city had tried to shut this place completely down a few years back, long before Ruki had ever breezed into the neighbourhood, but obviously all attempts had been unsuccessful. While it was seen as derelict and even nicknamed ‘Hell’ by the locals, too many people depended on the squatters’ lifestyle for such a movement to have ever worked. As the council had pointed out, once this place was gone, what happened to all those living there? They’d spill out onto the streets and re-pollute another stretch of city like a sea of plague infested rats.  
  
Lovely way of putting it. It really made Ruki, and he was sure all the others who lived there, feel special. Loved and wanted. He almost wanted to rouse the street rats into a form of protest just to prove his point.  
  
Finally home, he walked into what would have once been the foyer, and instantly acted like he didn’t notice the man standing there, staring at a poster covered wall. Common courtesy really. People didn’t come to live in this part of town because they wanted a bubbling social life.  
  
Even so, like most people, Ruki took note of the stranger while making a show of ignoring him. It was a sneaky manoeuvre, but Ruki had a lot at stake and liked to have adequate warning before any nasty surprises popped up.  
  
The man wasn’t anyone Ruki had seen around before; he’d sure as hell remember him if he had. Short and yet well built, the man had blond hair that was somewhere between spiky and shaved and even though he was wearing a shirt, Ruki could spy a number of colourful tattoos. There was one behind the ear, one that curved down the side of his throat and a number that spilt out onto his hands.  
  
All in all, the stranger’s presence made Ruki nervous.  
  
Keeping his eyes down, Ruki continued on to the stairs. His apartment was on the fifth floor which, while annoying for the fact that the lift didn’t work, was an oddly good thing. Gave him plenty of time to work out if anyone was following him or not and enough opportunities to get himself conveniently lost if the occasion called for it.  
  
Counting the stairs as he went, Ruki kept his eyes and ears peeled for any sign of danger from the strange man in the foyer. It was probably his paranoia speaking but he would much rather be safe than sorry and in this city, that was the only way of thinking that kept you alive.  


* * *

**Chapter Two preview:**

  
  
On the other hand, most didn’t make it as far as Aoi had. He’d been doing this for years and it was probably only through his paranoid sense of self preservation that he had survived and outlasted so many of his peers. The old proverb ‘many fish in the sea’ popped into his mind though he worked quickly to dismiss it. It seemed somewhat insulting in a way, not to mention that despite its obvious ties to his past train of thought, it was wholly irrelevant.  
  



	4. Chapter Two - The Hook, the Bait and the Fish

*****

**Chapter Two**

The Hook, the Bait and the Fish

  
*****

  
  
Aoi dropped the envelope down on the coffee table and flopped onto his couch with a sigh. Miyavi had finally decided to call it quits for the night and had retired to his little home away from home that just so happened to be a refurbished part of the same building.  
  
Aoi really wanted to find his own place, get his own little piece of heaven but every time he tried to leave, Miyavi would come up with a whole list of reasons as to why that wasn’t a good idea. Plus, things here were cruisey, no rent, no utilities to pay and only Miyavi to fend off, which wasn’t too hard.  
  
Aoi’s eyes were still drawn to the envelope even as his mind wandered. The temptation was overwhelming. The envelope was taunting him, calling his name and teasing him with the unknown.  
  
Aoi tried to tell himself that he didn’t want to know what the job was. It still wasn’t too late to turn it down. The seal hadn’t been broken; the papers were untouched; nothing had been compromised. There was no reason to go tempting fate.  
  
When Aoi – well, Yūrei – had hacked into the police database, the shockwave that had followed had been intense. That was the thing these days; cops were too busy with the likes of the yakuza and disgruntled citizens that they failed to notice the more subtle crimes. Computers were the biggest thing that they had overlooked and while Aoi wasn’t claiming to have been revolutionary or anything, he had surely opened their eyes up to those forms of attack.  
  
Of course he had been careful. Other than his tag he hadn’t left a single trace of his identity in the database, but still that hadn’t stopped him from being paranoid. He lost count how many times he looked over his shoulder while walking to get smokes, or how many people he was sure were watching his every move. It was a horrible, irrational fear, one that steadily ate you up from the inside until you felt as if there was nothing else there. No heart, no lungs to breathe. Just a large hollow space filled with vibrating cobwebs spun in the shape of fear.  
  
But the idea of being able to get into the SSD-base was something that anyone would relish. The security on that thing was amazing, state of the art and something that had taken software designers years to construct. To be the one known for breaking it down would be like inventing electricity or something.  
  
He’d seen a movie once about a kid who had managed to do something phenomenal with computers. Fucked if he could remember much of it, but it had made its own little impact on Aoi’s small world. He didn’t want to be that kid, no, not at all, he wanted to be better than that. Have his name up in lights to be worshipped by all those that would follow in his footsteps.  
  
Well, his nom de plume obviously.  
  
The large envelope was started to rope him in. Frowning, Aoi forced himself to stand and went into the little kitchen. Coffee would solve everything…  
  
“Fuck it,” he cursed. It took him three quick strides to reach the table wherein he snatched up the packet with grim resolve. Ripping it open, he pushed his hand inside and pulled out the papers before his mind had the chance to try and stop him.  
  
Temptation could be a fickle thing.  
  
Flicking through the pages, his eyes scanned for the needed information. There was nothing out of the ordinary; page after page after page of crap that he couldn’t be bothered reading through. Finally, at the back of the stack was what he liked to call his ‘cheat sheet’. It was a factual dossier detailing what he needed to do to complete the job, all neatly listed in note form.  
  
Frowning, Aoi's fingers tightened around the document as he continued to read. His feet moved on their own accord and brought him back to the small armchair. Folding his legs under him, he sat cross legged over the base and armrests of the seat, his mind completely engrossed with what he was reading.  
  
‘…the file in mention will not be within the folders of the system. It has been deleted. Completion of the job will see this information retrieved and restored to its original location. No further action is required.’  
  
A reinstate? Now that was different.  
  
Normally he was called upon to delete someone. Remove them from the files completely so that they could slip out of the country without detection. Sometimes he changed things, altered names or details, most likely to match forged passports or to hide various crimes.  
  
But never a reinstate.  
  
Something about it seemed off. Wrong to the point where all Aoi’s better judgment said to leave it alone. Suicidal was the best word for it. It was suicidal to go sticking his nose into something that just seemed so very, very… wrong.  
  
Continuing to look through the folder, he shifted the papers into piles; useful and rubbish. There were no pictures or even profile pages, just snippets and jumbles of hand written notes all photocopied onto nondescript paper. Finally he came across the name and, what appeared to be the last known location of the file within the server.  
  
The name meant nothing to him. He’d never heard of it before – at least not that he could remember – so that was somewhat of a relief and he was determined to well and truly forget it once he was done.  
  
The file location pointed to what seemed like a highly classified folder and if Aoi’s suspicions were correct, the file didn’t just disappear on its own. Either someone from the inside removed the very information he was being paid to restore, or someone else had hacked in before him.  
  
Really, it didn’t matter either way. He’d made his decision; it had been decided for him the moment he’d succumb to temptation and opened that damn envelope. There wasn’t a damn thing that he could do about it now other than buckle down and get the job done.  
  
A laborious sigh passed his lips as he squeezed down on the bridge of his nose. While he would love to just ignore it and start the job tomorrow, he again found that the temptation was just too strong.  
  
“No time better than the present,” he muttered to himself. Scooping up the papers, he grabbed his coffee cup and made his way out to the computers. At least doing it tonight meant that he wouldn’t have Miyavi looking over his shoulder every step of the way.  


*****

  
  
The jacket slid off the bed and landed on the floor in a crumpled pile. Ruki sighed and looked at it reproachfully, almost willing it to pick itself up and had the object been anything living, the power of Ruki’s gaze would have made it do just as he wanted.  
  
“Fuck it,” Ruki muttered, partly to himself and partly to the jacket he had just discarded. He’d pick it up later.  
  
Rubbing his eyes, Ruki flicked on the desk lamp and angled in down over the papers. A large standalone magnifying glass sat off to the right and Ruki dragged it over, moving the head up and down until he had good focus. With a flick of the wrist he readjusted the lamp once again, casting the otherwise shadowy evidence of his double life into the bright light.  
  
Passports. Forged documents. Birth certificates. Drivers licenses and other ID’s lay scattered over the large table.  
  
Bartending was fun and something to keep him amused, but it was in forged documents where the big money was. While he enjoyed his public job it was more a way to keep up appearances and launder the money that he earned counterfeiting. It had worked well and had provided a perfect balance between the two sides of his life, causing Ruki to frequently pat himself on the back for a job done damn well.  
  
Settling in his seat, he collected the scattered papers and returned to work on his latest creation. Tweezers in hand, he cautiously lifted a small rectangle of patterned paper and carefully lined it up on the base of the I.D. Prodding the left corner into the carefully cut slot with a thin metal stick, Ruki ever so slowly rolled it into the designated hollow, paying particular attention to make sure that it was straight.  
  
“John Smith,” Ruki muttered in disbelief as he peered through the microscope, his bottom lip between his teeth as he concentrated. “H’w fuckin’ new.” Ruki wasn’t stupid – far from it – and he understood the need to blend in when you obviously had something to hide, but a name like John Smith. To him it was just asking for a whole world of trouble to come banging at your doorstep.  
  
Not that he really gave a shit about it. The man was paying a fuckload for the papers and that was all that Ruki cared about. Cash spoke and what happened to the newest John Smith after he walked out of Ruki’s office, passport in hand, made no never mind to Ruki. Just as long as nothing reflected back on him.  
  
With the name firmly in place, Ruki moved onto the other fields. Replacement jobs like this one were a snap to do and hardly required any effort on his part; could still charge the idiot a fortune for it though.  
  
Pressing the point of his tweezers down on the last little rectangle of paper, Ruki blew down on the document, checking to see if anything would catch. Nothing moved and so he carefully traced his hands over the surface. He could feel the little gaps where the paper met but that would be easily disguised within the finished product.  
  
“And ‘ere we go, Mr John Smith,” Ruki said while holding the almost finished card up against the light. “Welcome t’life.”  
  
It was flawless; a perfect example of his work. All it needed was a coat of laminate and to be fitted snugly within the rest of the pages of the man’s passport and it would be finished. A new creation. A new person. A new life and fresh face for the world to greet so that some criminal could go on living the way he wanted.  
  
The light clicked off as Ruki stood and worked the kinks out of his neck. Most of the time he tried not to view what he did as helping those that the law wished to condemn. If he did, Ruki found that he lost all satisfaction for the job. It was far easier to look at it as giving people a second chance; the opportunity to set things right. A start over just like he once had.  
  
He certainly wasn’t daft enough to believe that that was what he was doing, but it made it seem ok in his head so he went with it and clung to the fools hope. Somehow that made the situation easier to deal with and the common thugs suddenly didn’t seem as bad. Everything simply became another job, another payout and another step closer to getting the fuck out of this hellhole town, which was what it was all about.  
  
Sure, he could up and leave at any time, throw some clothes into a bag and walk out into the heart of ‘proper’ civilization, but what was the point? Just trade one thing for another? Trade in one street corner, one shitty building for some other one in another hellish basin in a different city. Fuck that.  
  
At least here, lost in the shadows and red lights of the seedier district, Ruki could go unnoticed. There were so many people trying to forget themselves in this part of the city that it was all just too easy to slip under the radar and become one of them. And hell, call Ruki stupid but he had almost managed to achieve just that – forget himself, that is – and it was a blissfully happy existence.  
  
Besides, when Ruki finally managed to get out of here, he wouldn’t just be going into the heart of Tokyo. He’d try somewhere else. Kyoto maybe, Osaka? Hell, if he had the cash by that time he’d even go overseas. Somewhere exciting. Europe? He’d always wanted to go there, or even L.A where he could lose himself in the underground music scene.  
  
That would be nice. No more of this skulking in the shadows, watching his back wherever he went. No more need to hide. It would be the completely fresh start that his false name, a fairytale history and string of fabricated criminal offences couldn’t give him no matter how hard he tried.  
  
With that in mind, Ruki continued his work, this time turning his attention to the photo of the man who would now be seen as John Smith.  


*****

  
  
Aoi stared at his computer. Lost within his own mind, he wouldn’t have been surprised if the machine came to life and jumped right out to eat him. In fact, that was half the reason he was staring at it in the first place. He was expecting it to do something like that.  
  
Rational thought told him that that was a completely _irrational_ thought but he couldn’t care less at this point in time. He’d been sitting there for hours, his eyes glued to the screen and his tailbone steadily going numb with each passing moment and computers being able to eat people sounded like a very plausible excuse for the hours he had just lost.  
  
Rubbing at his eyes, Aoi watched the streams of code; letters and numbers fill the screen. This was the bit that he hated. Searching for the right program, the right tools and the right way to gain excess was always the time consuming bit. Actually getting into the database was the best part; that feeling of accomplishment that would wash over him and take all his fears away the moment that the catalogue was displayed for him, ready and waiting for him to enter.  
  
Deleting the file was what made his self confidence soar and yet somehow it instated that hollow feeling of falling into the pit of his stomach all at the same time.  
  
Something about that seemed final. Proved that there was no going back and that he had just further condemned himself if he was ever caught which really wasn’t such a pretty thought. Sure, if need be, he could recall the file and reinstall it, that was what made him so good; in and out without a trace the first time and could easily do it a second, third and fourth. But he had long learnt that every action had a reaction. You take away a file, you have left a hole, you place it back, and the hole is still there, only covered, hidden from immediate view.  
  
Sighing laboriously, he turned to the other desk and his second computer, his eyes locking onto the screen and adjusting to the flashing pages with ease.  
  
It was his own sense of pride that provoked the need to search the newspaper archives for any record of anyone else having ever broken into the SSD-base. So far his search had come up empty. Again, it was both a liberating and humbling feeling all at the same time.  
  
He approached all jobs with a sense of dread. When you did things like the cases Aoi took, you could never fully tell if each commission was going to be your last. It could easily be a trap, a nicely hooked worm just dangling as bait and waiting for Aoi to play the part of the fish.  
  
On the other hand, most didn’t make it as far as Aoi had. He’d been doing this for years and it was probably only through his paranoid sense of self preservation that he had survived and outlasted so many of his peers. The old proverb ‘many fish in the sea’ popped into his mind though he worked quickly to dismiss it. It seemed somewhat insulting in a way, not to mention that despite its obvious ties to his past train of thought, it was wholly irrelevant.  
  
It was always like this. A sort of constant struggle between his normal, everyday cynical self and that wizened, cocky hacker that lingered somewhere deep within him. That was why, when it got harder and harder to keep the ambitious streak at bay, he had opted to transform that strange feeling – that other presence – into a completely different person.  
  
That was how Yūrei was born. Although, it wasn’t like Aoi was his real name either, but then again, this part of town was like Hollywood so that hardly mattered. No one had a last name and no ones first name was their own anyway. It all came down to personal choice and considering that Aoi didn’t have a family anymore, he wanted to keep ‘Aoi’ as a perceptible, pliable marker of what he had created on his own.  
  
So with the need to find a way both to hide himself from the authorities while also getting his name out there, Yūrei manifested itself into existence and the two different sides of Aoi had been coexisting ever since. Well, actually, it had been _‘RockS*r’_ for a few years but he got over that phase once he hit fifteen and unleashed a virus on the worlds’ computers that had nations reeling in panic. RockS*r didn’t really seem like an overly cool name and Aoi knew that, like everyone in the world, if you are going to have an alter ego at least make them sound awesome.  
  
He had liked the idea of being a ghost. He paid no attention to the horror story stuff that he saw as fickle, but concentrated on the notion of being there and yet not. There was Aoi, the average boy that attended school at least for awhile. He was a loner due to his want for peace and his distaste for talk of girls, sport and parties though he was well known in places like the local internet café and the library.  
  
Then there was Yūrei, the hacker. The resourceful and intelligent man trapped inside the guise of a young boy who was only permitted to emerge within computer systems. Though he was, according to the news reports and police files at the time, a male, aged twenty-five to thirty and living in the western prefecture.  
  
Occasionally Aoi felt like Yūrei was a completely different person; a separate entity trapped within his body. A split personality that was desperate to be known and as time went on, Aoi became more and more comfortable with that idea.  
  
At least he could always try pleading insanity if he ever was caught.  
  
Somewhere in Aoi there was a third aspect as well. This one was new, unfamiliar even to his own mind and body and he could only put it down to him ageing. He was hardly the young kid anymore, having reached the age of twenty-four only a few months ago and maybe it had been a biological clock, a ticker laying within waiting to be pressed, but he suddenly found himself changing. He was stronger willed, more confident and while he had once loved the idea of locking himself away with computers for the rest of his life, he was starting to see the appeals of a normal life.  
  
That third, alien presence wove itself into his being so quickly that he hadn’t even noticed it until its fibres were the very foundations of his new beliefs and reasons. It was responsible for that hint of rebelliousness towards Miyavi and was the reason he took so many kick-boxing lessons.  
  
It was stronger than he ever thought he could be and even he could see that it held a sense of danger about it. Just like when Yūrei had been born, Aoi felt a tinge of excitement that he couldn’t deny every time that defiant blood bubbled up inside of him.  
  
But that was something that would happen on its own time. He couldn’t force the creation of this new side of him; it just didn’t work that way. And so he waited patiently, encouraging the changes and wondering what the hell it was all for. If his life was a movie it would be because he was nearing the beginning of it all – of life, of some epic struggle that he was about to partake in or, in the most dire of circumstances, the world would be about to end. While Aoi would believe almost anything these days, the world ending was not one of them – at least not yet – and so he was left contemplating what it was that he would have to face that his higher awareness was training him for.  
  
Maybe he was becoming a mutant who would be able to shoot sticky tape out of his eyes or something. Though, as cool as it sounded, it seemed rather painful and Aoi caught himself rubbing at his eyes again before he really realised what he was thinking.  
  
His search for prior hackers to the SSD-base was still coming up with nothing and he was about to abandon it entirely when an affirmative beep sounded from the other computer. Swivelling his chair around, Aoi pushed himself away from the desk and neatly glided over to land underneath the other.  
  
“Ha ah!” he cheered triumphantly as windows started popping up on the screen. The first stage of security was cleared.  
  
Aoi didn’t even glance at his fingers as they reached to the ‘Windows Key’ while stretching across and pressing the ‘R’. ‘Run program’ popped up with a speed that only a well maintained, perfectly clean computer could offer and he typed in the shortcut to his decoding program.  
  
From there it was again a matter of waiting. It was good that he was an overly patient man as otherwise something like this would drive him to have steam puffing out of his ears before too long.  
  
He’d designed this code slicing program himself and to this day it was still one of his biggest achievements. It worked much the same as any other decoder but with the added twist of completely eliminating common number strings. When dealing with large corporations and top security systems no one ever used a password that could fall into wrong hands. Most decoders would take so long to differentiate the correct combination from the fake ones installed for protection that the database maintainer would have time to first find and then track the alien presence.  
  
That was where Aoi’s program varied. It was able to lock onto numbers much quicker and identify decoys all without him actually having to sort through the possibilities or guess with trial and error.  
  
It was, in a word, perfect and Aoi was sure that if he was going to get a superpower or anything it wouldn’t revolve around sticky tape and would instead be something to do with numbers. The power to count and multiply people to death.  
  
Thankfully the password popped up before he could further consider the pros and cons of such a strange ability and before too long he was typing the twelve digit code into the prompt box and hitting execute.  
  
Almost immediately his program started up again, going through the same rigmarole of slowly sourcing out the next line of defence.  
  
In all honesty he had no clue how long he would have to sit here doing this. How many levels of security did one of the most secure databases in the world actually have? And how far in was the file that he was looking for? They were all answers that he would quickly discover as long as everything went well. Aoi was just appreciative that working out a possible access code to each level took less time than actually hacking open the prompt box from a remote computer.  
  
Sighing and reclining back in his chair, Aoi buried his hands in his hair and tried to relax. It was no doubt going to be a long night.  


*****

**Chapter Three preview:**

  
  
His feet shuffled against the floor and Ruki couldn’t help the want to whack the prick and tell him no. Too much fidgeting made Ruki nervous and with his finger poised right where it was, sitting nicely on that pretty trigger, nerves wasn’t something that would work well for the stranger. The only thing keeping Ruki at bay and from jumping the gun, so to speak, was the fact that he really didn’t feel like cleaning at this time of morning.  


*****


	5. Chapter Three - There he was, and in he walked

  
*****

**Chapter Three**

There he was, and in he walked

  
*****

  
  
Ruki’s hand closed around the gun strapped to the bottom of his desk. Fucked if he was going to go taking any unnecessary chances. Ruki didn’t like it when people showed up unannounced and looking for something in a hurry. It made him highly suspicious and mostly of the Feds and their sneaky ‘catch the counterfeit artist’ games. Also didn’t help that it was an ungodly early hour of the morning and Ruki wanted to be back in bed sleeping. He was grumpy and feeling more antisocial then usual which, he sadly had to admit, didn’t bode well for this new guy standing in his office while looking freaked.  
  
Shooting the tall dark haired, somewhat effeminate man a commanding look, Ruki silently prayed that this wasn’t the end of all that he’d worked towards. The money was already on the table which was a good thing, but something about the way the kid had just ambled in there and slapped it down didn’t sit well with Ruki. Too nervous and yet too confident. It was an odd mixture which was why Ruki paid particular attention to the kid’s body language and attitude.  
  
“I need a passport,” the stranger repeated and none of those words made Ruki’s hand loosen around the hold of his gun.  
  
“Do I look lik’a registry office?” Ruki demanded. There was one thing he had learnt. Never say anything illegal until they did. The risk of wires and sound equipment was just starting to kick into the scene and they made Ruki somewhat paranoid. For good reason too. He’d be looking at something like five to twenty years depending on how much they got him for, and that wasn’t including some of the other priors he had as well.  
  
“No,” the man said this time somewhat quieter. His feet shuffled against the floor and Ruki couldn’t help the want to whack the prick and tell him ‘no’. Too much fidgeting made Ruki nervous and with his finger poised right where it was, sitting nicely on that pretty trigger, nerves wasn’t something that would work well for the stranger. The only thing keeping Ruki at bay and from jumping the gun, so to speak, was the fact that he really didn’t feel like cleaning at this time of morning.  
  
“I was… ummm… I was kind of hoping that you could… ummm…”  
  
“Spit it’th fuck out,” Ruki coaxed, his finger all the while tightening against that happy little trigger and the horrors of cleaning disappearing. Sometimes cleaning was a great way to relieve stress and if there was anything that Ruki was feeling at the moment other then being tired, it was stress.  
  
The kid blushed but Ruki couldn’t tell if it was at the idea of what he was asking or at Ruki’s vulgar way of speaking. Neither made a dint in Ruki; not like he cared for the shit.  
  
“I was hoping that… illegal documents. I need to get out in a hurry.” The man scratched his head and offered Ruki a weird sort of screwed up expression. “I don’t think that my name will go down too well at the airport.”  
  
“Ok.” Ruki felt a surge of relief wash over him. Stupid really because it didn’t eliminate the threat at all, but at least he felt better having everything out in the open. His finger slipped from the trigger and his hands resurfaced. He knee still touched the gun though. If things went sour the last thing he wanted was to be groping around under a desk looking for the damn thing to fire.  
  
“Wha's ya name, kid?” Ruki asked. “The real one.” He looked the runt up and down a good few times, well trained eyes quickly looking for any sign of weapons. He’d already given the kid the once over – twice actually – but it was best to be on the safe side and they always said that three was the charm. He wasn’t too sure who said ‘they’ were but Ruki liked the statement and decided to take it completely on face value. Made a good motto for staying alive as well.  
  
“Shinya,” the lanky guy said. His voice was so quiet that Ruki would have had to strain his hearing to actually listen, though of course that was actually assuming that he cared.  
  
Ruki didn’t take his eyes off the other even for a moment as he turned to scrounge through his desk drawer. Pulling out a camera, he threw some more batteries into the slot and flicked it on.  
  
“’Gainst th’ wall,” Ruki ordered with a jab of his chin. The man looked somewhat startled and about ready to piss bolt out the door. “I ain’t a fuckin’ firin’ squad,” Ruki said with a roll of his eyes. “I just need’a take ya picture.”  
  
“Oh, right,” the man said, blushing profoundly, “of course.” Ruki tried not to be patronizing as he nodded and smiled sarcastically but even he knew that he failed big time in his attempt.  
  
Shinya stood against the wall and Ruki could’ve sworn that he was a cop taking happy snaps of a crim. Shinya stood like he’d spent most of his life in line ups. It was hard for Ruki not to give him shit and tell him to turn left and right cause out of everyone in this whole damn city, Ruki was confident that Shinya would know his left from his right like a fucking pro.  
  
“Don’t smile’n say ‘flight from prosecution’.”  
  
“Flight from… oh,” Shinya stopped as Ruki glared at him. So maybe not too many people got Ruki’s sense of humour but still, that was ridiculous. The guy was like a performing monkey which, come to think of it, was highly likely. Everyone’s got to be running away from something to come to someone like Ruki and it wasn’t too far fetched to think that this character was running from a control freak of a lover. A criminal one most obviously and, considering the man’s pretty appearance, Ruki would wager that it was one of the Yakuza. But the situation wouldn’t be the first time and certainly wouldn’t be the last and as long as the lover didn’t come chasing Ruki down then it was no skin off his nose.  
  
The bright flash filled the room, momentarily illuminating all the chipped plaster and collected dust. Ignoring the decrepit look at reality, Ruki just squinted at the camera and eyed off the photo. It wasn’t perfect but it would do. He didn’t particularly want this guy hanging around long enough for him to take a whole bunch of family portraits.  
  
Settling himself back down in his seat, his knee automatically sought out the gun and for the first time since Shinya had walked through the door, Ruki turned his gaze elsewhere. He hooked the camera up and started loading the picture to the printer. It wasn’t like he had state of the art equipment but he made do and the finished product looked a hell of a lot more real then most back alley jobs. Sometimes Ruki’s high self opinion had him thinking that they even looked better than the real thing which really wouldn’t have been a wrong assumption.  
  
“An’ who ar’w bein’ now?” Ruki asked. The man shot him a puzzled look and Ruki was hard pressed to tell if he really didn’t understand the question or if he was struggling with Ruki’s accent. Either way made him stupid. “Wh’cha new name?” He couldn’t make it much simpler than that.  
  
The man shuffled his feet and looked left and right. Didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out that he hadn’t thought that far ahead and Ruki couldn’t help but clear his throat to hurry him along. He didn’t have all day and even if he did, Ruki hardly fancied spending it with some random, nervous stranger in his apartment who looked about as scared as a cat dunked in freezing water.  
  
“John Smith…” It was a hesitant answer but one that broke all of Ruki’s self control.  
  
“Fuckin’ shittin’ me it is,” he swore. Turning back to his computer, his face scrunched up as he scratched at a particularly thick dreadlock. Fingers ghosting over the keys, he filled in the blanks of the man’s fake name. “Takahashi Ken'ichi it is,” Ruki said with a proud grin. There was something actually fun about renaming people and it was sure as hell a better name than John Smith.  
  
“Ok,” the new Ken’ichi said. His eyes dropped like he really wanted that name of John Smith though Ruki couldn’t honestly see why. Not that it mattered. Besides, if too many full blood Japanese people started parading around with an American name then someone was bound to get suspicious. Ruki was helping this guy in the long run though Shinya probably would never know it.  
  
Since the guy seemed smartly challenged, Ruki didn’t bother asking any more questions. He made up a birthday, took a rough guess at height and set the weight at almost nonexistent. Too easy. It was like playing god in a way. The ability to make people was at his fingertips and whatever he decided to do, these guys left living the traces of Ruki’s imagination.  
  
“Graba seat, Mr Takahashi” he instructed while using his chin to indicate to a seat in the corner of the room. “This’ll take a bit s’ya may’s well be comfor’able.”  


*****

  
  
The steel suitcase clicked against the polished marble of the floor. Black leather boots squeaked as a tall man with dark hair moved away from his companion and walked up to the reception desk. Without removing his sunglasses, the man gave the concierge the reservation name and waited less than patiently as they looked it up in the system. Jaw scissoring back and forth, the stranger cut an imposing figure as he chewed loudly on a stick of gum.  
  
Even from his vantage point, the shorter of the two men could see the receptionist shaking slightly as she typed. Feeling more self conscious than his counterpart Die, Kyo pushed his sunglasses further up his nose and raked his hand through the short part of his hair.  
  
Neither of them made any attempt to tame their appearance, but then again, within this sort of environment there really wasn’t much point. Yakuza were as well recognized as Santa or the Easter Bunny and yet no one would be able to tell the difference between a typical gang thug and a hired killer.  
  
They were here to do a job and then were paid to get the fuck out, which suited both Kyo and Die just fine. There was no point hanging around. It wasn’t really like they were able to bask in the glory of their accomplishments and even if they wanted to, it seemed inexplicably pointless.  
  
Four days. That was all they had from the moment they touched down in the city. The plane had arrived late last night so the clock was already ticking. Four days to find, identify, plan and execute before they were scheduled to disappear into the chaos that they created.  
  
And they had been paid nicely to make things interesting. None of this sneaking around in the dark, skulking in shadows and knives in the back. It was to be public, bloody and something that the city would remember for years to come. This ironically suited them fine again.  
  
Kyo had already been watching his contract. He had seen where he lived, where he worked. Already he could tell you almost everything there was to know about the short man and he’d only been following him for a few hours. Kyo had been through his trash, had seen him eat, drink and smoke and turn tricks before work in what would have been a deserted alleyway had Kyo not been lurking.  
  
Die on the other hand had yet to start. But then again, his was easier. A sitting duck, unknowing and trusting. Lost within a world of computers and superhero movies; an easy kill.  
  
They had drawn straws to decide who got whom and for once Kyo thanked lady luck. He liked the challenges, the targets that would put up a fight. His target was expecting something. Not now, not like this, but unlike Die’s hit, Kyo’s had something to hide and from what he had heard, was well accustom to dealing with assassins.  
  
Finally the young woman behind the desk produced a room key and muttered a string of instructions to Die. When his taller companion rejoined him, Kyo grabbed hold of his suitcase and followed the other man into the elevator.  
  
The lift ride to the seventh floor was somewhat of a joke. Crammed in with their suitcases they were surrounded by curious citizens and a little old lady who seemed bent on making a leaning post out of Die. The corners of Kyo’s lips tugged slightly as his partner merely stared straight ahead, chewed faster and tried to ignore the woman clinging to his arm and making ‘ohhhing’ noises every time they stopped.  
  
No words were said between them – words were overrated anyway – as they separated themselves from the elevator and entered the room. 713. It had a nice ring to it and proved to be spacious with two double beds Habit saw Kyo go to the right and Die to the left as soon as they entered the room. In perfect, frightening synchronization they both placed their suitcases on the furthest corner of the beds.  
  
Already Kyo was reaching for a cloth and his favourite rifle. Flying could be hell to weapons and the last thing he wanted was for any of them to start showing the signs of wear. As soon as that happened they were as good as useless; it provoked jamming, made the safety harder to flick and wore down the bullet chamber. While he was not one to get overly attached to his weapons he did pride himself in keeping them in perfect order.  
  
“You got the cash?” Kyo asked as he took a seat at the small writing desk. The metal of the gun grated against the studs on his jacket, making an almost calming clinking sound like a child with a toy or a wind chime tolling in the breeze.  
  
Die merely nodded in response as he fiddled with his suitcase. For whatever reason he always insisted on using the small security wheels to lock the damn thing and not even Kyo knew what the access code was. Not that he really cared, but it fascinated him none the less. The idea that anyone would be able to get such a valuable thing away from Die was a preposterous one and if they somehow did, Kyo was sure that they would be someone of high enough calibre to actually be able to break into the case anyway. It seemed quite superfluous in the long run and a hell of a lot of wasted time.  
  
Since their departure and the distribution of the targets Die had hardly muttered a word. It wasn’t overly unusual for the man, but Kyo knew that Die was sulking about getting the easy target.  
  
“He might not be that easy,” Kyo pointed out as he started to run a cloth up and down the long barrel of his rifle. He would have made a joke about the notion that perhaps this computer nerd lived some otherworldly double life but thought it would be lost amid Die’s brooding.  
  
“If you give me that superhero shit I’m taking your kill,” Die muttered.  
  
Kyo merely sighed and continued his work. That was the problem about working with someone for so long. You got to know them too well to the point were you almost had a hive mind. That or you scarily shared a brain. Either way, it was half painful and half reassuring all at the same time.  
  
“Would never dream of it,” Kyo responded though even he wasn’t too sure what he meant by that. He’d never dream of teasing Die or was it more that he was warning Die not to even think about crossing into his territory?  
  
Rivalry was a big deal in a job like this and hive brain or not, there was still enough tension between the two to make things awkward. It wasn’t the kind of job where you went and had drinks with your co-workers or where you allowed any aspect of your personal life to show. The moment you did that you were no better than dead, whether hit from within or a rival assassin syndicate.  
  
Opting to ignore the man altogether, Kyo turned his attention back to his weapon. Besides, it was oddly more interesting than the brooding assassin.  


*****

  
  
It was always the same old thing, day in, day out. Someone being reported missing, someone who’d once been reported missing had turned up and was now in a body bag and some other person had been caught red-handed with the gun in their hands.  
  
The same insanity, the same violent shove of humanity against that downward spiral to self-destruction.  
  
Looking at the reports from the night before, Atsushi had the vague feeling of it all being hopeless. It was something that he didn’t allow himself to feel too often. Such thoughts were the seed of evil and he thoroughly believed that such ideals were what opened so many police up to corruption.  
  
But every now and then he couldn’t deny that he felt like a lone ranger. A sole madman fighting for the good of the people against an opponent that could never be bested.  
  
It wasn’t just the Yakuza either. Crime in general was starting to take over the whole city, not just his little district of sin and depravity.  
  
A soft knock at the door startled him. Blinking, Atsushi cleared his vision and actually turned his full attention to the papers he’d been staring at so absentmindedly. Before he had the chance to grant the person access, the door opened and Officer Kawauchi popped his head into the room, looking somewhere between shy and proud of himself as he held a mug of coffee out in offering.  
  
Atsushi vaguely wondered what the hell the kid was doing there so early and no sooner had he finished asking himself that question, Toru supplied him with an answer. “Couldn’t sleep,” the young officer said with a shy smile and a shrug of his shoulders. “I think you are going to need this,” he said, placing it down on Atsushi’s desk. Atsushi didn’t miss the way the officer made a special note of placing the mug on the coaster and for that split moment, he almost liked the kid.  
  
“Thank you,” he said. Thinking it rude to ignore the offered drink, Atsushi reached out and took a sip, not expecting to be overly surprised. Oddly enough, the coffee was made exactly to his liking. Not able to hide his surprise, he sent a quizzical look up at Toru who merely shrugged again.  
  
“I asked around,” Toru said by way of explanation. “Someone had to know how you took your coffee.”  
  
Atsushi actually chuckled at that. He had to give him credit. Not too many people in this place knew that he was a coffee addict let alone how he preferred it. “Much appreciated,” he muttered before turning his attention back to the files.  
  
“Sir?” The urgency in Toru’s voice forced Atsushi to look up, coffee still in hand and trying not to portray his annoyance.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“You know how I said that you were going to need it… I was told to come and get you,” Toru said. It was quite clear that he was nervous and the way his eyes darted around the room made Atsushi feel as if he was looking for possible exits.  
  
“And why is that?” Atsushi asked. His own sense of self perseveration saw him stretching out to place the coffee mug back onto the coaster. It wouldn’t be a good start to the day to get coffee everywhere, whether it be on his clothes or all over his paperwork.  
  
Toru shifted his weight again and looked bashful all of a sudden. It was a strange change from his normally self-confident arrogance. “It’s ummm…” Toru started, stuttering over his words until catching sight of Atsushi’s unimpressed look. The detective could almost see Toru gulp down his inhabitations and took note of that precise moment when the trained, skilled officer took back control.  
  
“Nero, Sir,” Toru said, his voice no longer quivering. “He said to come and get you. Important, he said. Something about the SS Database being breeched.”  
  
With just those few words Atsushi felt his world shatter. It was like he’d been in a bubble, locked in a safe haven where he believed that he was untouchable and then someone had rudely come along with a pin and caused a blast. Without even knowing any more specific details, Atsushi already knew what it was that would have been accessed. He didn’t know why, but his gut feeling was screaming at him and he knew better than to ignore it.  
  
The strangest thing about the leak was that it really had nothing to do with him. It was his job, most of those files were his reports, but in the long run it wasn’t going to be him that suffered. Yet somehow it still felt like someone had ripped his heart out and bludgeoned it to death with a crowbar.  
  
“Sir?”  
  
“Where’s Nero?” Atsushi asked. He stood, the action proving to be a lot smoother and calmer then he thought, and walked around the desk.  
  
“I’ll take you to him, sir,” Toru said with his customary small bow. The younger man held the door open for Atsushi before closing it and indicating Atsushi to follow him.  
  
Toru lead the way and Atsushi took up pace slightly behind him. The office was starting to wake up as the night crew changed with the day and already Atsushi could feel questioning gazes locking on him. So most of them had already heard; news sure travelled quickly.  
  
Already Atsushi was running through the best course of action in his head. The biggest problem now would be identifying the recently viewed files, trying to trace the line and, worst of all, dealing with the press. If word of this got out it would demean his entire operation but since so many people seemed to already know, he could pretty much kiss confidentially goodbye.  
  
Trying not to let his own paranoia get the best of him, Atsushi focused all his attention on Toru’s back and practically glared daggers into the kid’s shoulders.  
  
Atsushi’s gaze darkened as he continued to look at the young man. It really wasn’t Toru’s fault – not in the slightest – but it was easier to just glare at him anyway. For his part Toru handled it well, never once shifting under the intense gaze and kept his head held high.  
  
Maybe he hadn’t noticed, Atsushi thought before turning his eyes off to glower elsewhere, namely at Nero. It took a few more moments for him to get himself completely in check and then clarity was like a slap to the face.  
  
“Alright,” Atsushi said, calling loudly over the din of the room. Silence ensured as everyone stopped dead in their tracks.  
  
“First things first, if I find that any of you have leaked this to the press, I’ll have your badge and see you permanently disbarred. You’ll be lucky if you can get a job outside of the janitor career track.”  
  
Atsushi cast his dark eyes around the room, locking gazes with as many as he good. “Do I make myself perfectly clear?” His question was answered with a serious of nods, bows and loud proclamations. “Good.  
  
“Now I need to know how the hell they got in there,” Atsushi said. “I don’t care how you get the information, just work it out. And for Christs sake, somebody tell me if the current access codes are still working.” He didn’t need to stress the importance of that. If they were locked out of their own system then there was no telling what would happen.  
  
People scattered to and fro as he barked out his orders. A young woman with intelligent eyes moved past him and sat down next to Nero. “All current passwords are the same, Sir,” she said, “and as far as I can see there has been no peripheral entrance set up. The hacker tagged the site. ‘Yūrei’ so it looks like the hacker meant this to be a one time thing – a claim to fame – but I’ll check closer.”  
  
Atsushi’s tone dropped, the volume settling to something that could have been considered conspiratorial. “Inform me as soon as you know for sure,” Atsushi said. “Also,” Atsushi continued, his eyes moving from the woman to Nero and back again. “I want a detailed report on what changes have been made and exactly what they accessed on my desk in the next twenty minutes. Keep your findings quiet,” Atsushi ordered. Nero nodded and pushed his glasses up closer to his eyes. Turning back to his computer, Nero began typing at a breakneck speed while constantly flicking between his word processor and the database.  
  
Atsushi didn’t bother to wait for any questions. He expected his men to be able to keep up and if they did lag behind he’d deal with them later. This was a serious breech of security; a lot of those in the office had been training for a day when something like this would happen.  
  
“Sir?” Toru asked as he fell into step alongside Atsushi. Atsushi almost jumped. He’d completely forgotten about Toru after having used him as a glaring post.  
  
“Yes?” Atsushi didn’t slow his pace to accommodate the younger officer. Vaguely he realised that he had probably jinxed himself from the get go, when he had been bothered by the lack of anything different in the reports for the night.  
  
“They said that the file that was accessed was-”  
  
Atsushi cut him off by raising his hand. “I already know. There is no reason to go saying it out loud.” Toru frowned but otherwise kept his mouth shut and nodded understandingly. Atsushi picked up the pace, weaving his way easily through the mess of desks and people. The news had flooded through the entire office and already everyone was in a bit of panic. Even those without access to the server didn’t need to be told just how serious a breech of security like this was.  
  
“Are you any good with computers?” Atsushi asked once it was apparent that Toru wasn’t going anywhere other than with him. May as well put the kid to good use.  
  
“I passed third in my class,” Toru said with a curt nod. Moving forward, he reached the door to Atsushi’s office before his boss and held it open in a sign of respect. Atsushi fought not to sigh out loud at the over exaggerated action and moved into his office.  
  
“Close the door,” he instructed.  
  
Toru did as commanded and the roar of the busy precinct was abruptly brought to a halt. The young officer looked a little uncomfortable and glanced between Atsushi and the guest seat nervously.  
  
Atsushi shook his head in a gentle no. “I have something for you to do.” Toru visibly brightened at the notion of being of importance and again Atsushi found himself liking the kid despite his cynical judgement.  
  
“I need you to look further into it. Find out whatever you can about this Yūrei. Not just what we have on records but what the public think.” Toru nodded but Atsushi could still see the questions on his face.  
  
Deciding to cut the kid some slack, Atsushi elaborated on exactly what he was after. “People like this do these sorts of jobs for two reasons. One is money and I bet he just got paid a shitload for it.”  
  
“How can you tell?” Toru interrupted.  
  
“He changed something,” Atsushi said simply. Reaching over his desk he grabbed a pile of files and dragged them over in front of him. Absentmindedly he started straightening them while making sure that no papers hung over the edge of the folders and that they were square on to the edge of the desk. “If it was about him proving that he could do it – which is the second reason – then he would have just left his tag. But no. This guy changed something which means that there is a buyer lurking in the background.”  
  
Again Toru nodded. It was plain to see that he was taking it all in, filing away everything that Atsushi said and the detective was overcome with a strong sense of trust in the other.  
  
“Hit the web hard,” Atsushi finished. “Message boards, communities, blogs; whatever you can find. There has to be somewhere that this guy hangs out and he is notorious enough that others will be talking about him. See what rumours you can drag out. Don’t pass up on anything and let me know as soon as you find something, no matter how small.”  
  
Like the well trained puppy that he was, Toru merely nodded again. “Right away, sir,” he said. Bowing deeply, he turned on his heels and made for the door yet before he pushed it open, he glanced over his shoulder. “If I may, sir?” he questioned.  
  
Seeing no way around answering the kid’s impending question, Atsushi merely nodded and gave the other a commanding flick of his wrist.  
  
“What do we do about the file that was accessed?”  
  
Atsushi had expected as much. Of course Toru would think of that. As much as he hated the fact, he had to give the kid credit. He was a bright cookie, switched on more so than most of the veterans in the office and as vain as it sounded, Atsushi could tell that Toru hadn’t been lying when he’d first said he’d studied Atsushi’s cases. The detective could see strong traces of himself – of his thoughts and his way of thinking – running though Toru’s mind and affecting his decisions.  
  
“Leave that up to me,” Atsushi said. He could see the way that Toru’s face fell slightly like a child being told it couldn’t play with its favourite toy but it wasn’t in Atsushi to care.  
  
The file was a delicate one and one that he was very well acquainted with in one way or another. Not to mention that it had been deleted for a reason.  
  
“Just stick to working out how to find this Yūrei and then we’ll move onto the file, all right?”  
  
Again Toru nodded and offered another bow. “I won’t let you down, Sir,” he said before exiting the room and closing the door quietly behind him.  
  
Once again alone, Atsushi’s calm demeanour crumbled away like dry cement. He pinched at the bridge of his nose impatiently and screwed up his face as he felt the first signs of a headache looming.  
  
Things just got a shitload harder for him and years of experience told him that it would be hitting the streets just as bad. If he thought it was bad in here then there was no telling what would be going down out there tonight.  
  
Not to mention that he’d have to bring _him_ in and as much as he loved his job, he really hated doing that. The kid was a wild card, a punk and a smart ass with a potty mouth and had a way of wiggling his way under Atsushi’s skin that made the detective want to snap and shoot something.  


*****

**Chapter Four preview:**

  
  
The man’s closed fist smashed into the side of Ruki’s mouth, automatically drawing blood as Ruki’s lip split. He could feel the sharp press of his teeth against his inner lip and at the taste that flooded his mouth he knew that he had almost bitten straight through. The force of the blow sent his head wheeling and all too quickly he found his eyes locked onto the floor as he struggled to keep his footing.  


*****


	6. Chapter Four - Facing the Firing Squad

**Chapter Four**

Facing the Firing Squad

****

  
  
_“Authorities were both baffled and outraged this morning at evidence of an alien presence having gained access to classified records of the SS database. No paper trail or any hint was left behind, except for the word ‘Yūrei’. Experts believe it to be the signature of a hacker that they have been tracking for sometime now; this ‘Yūrei’ having conducted a string of horrendous computer crimes in the past.  
  
“It is said that the information was highly classified and, as yet, they are unsure of the exact date in which the security was breeched. The SS and local police departments are joining forces in hopes of catching this cyber terrorist, and we have been informed that they will spare no expense.  
  
“SS officials refused to comment on whether or not anything has been reported missing from their files.  
  
“In other news, after two years of fighting following The Gangland Killings, things are finally returning to normal within the city after the death of Yakuza leader..."_  
  
The woman’s voice trailed off long before the colour and light drained from the old television set. Casting the battered remote back into the cabinet, Miyavi sighed in disbelief as he glared at the man sitting at the kitchen bench, drinking an espresso and reading the morning paper; seemingly completely oblivious to what was happening.  
  
“What the fuck?” Miyavi cut straight to the chase.  
  
Even though Aoi didn’t look up, it was obvious that Miyavi was pissed and maybe even nervous. He had that odd look on his face, somewhere between predatory and constipated and as if at a loss at what to do, Miyavi reached out and picked up the remote again. He made no effort to turn the TV back on, just stood there holding it like it was some life saving device that would help him deal with Aoi’s obvious attitude problem.  
  
“Hmmm?” Aoi asked, never once blinking or removing his eyes from the paper. It wasn’t an overly interesting article but reading about the second anniversary of some dead gang lord sure beat the hell out of facing Miyavi at this point in time.  
  
“Hello?” Miyavi questioned, his tone proving to be inefficient at pulling Aoi’s eyes from the newspaper. “Did you not hear that?” he continued anyway. “There is a full scale search for you. What the fuck were you thinking, Aoi – Yūrei – whoever?”  
  
“Aoi...” he said absentmindedly before throwing the paper aside, the content obviously not pleasing him. Stretching his arms up behind his head, he gave a lazy sigh before scraping his chair along the wooden floor and standing slowly to his feet. Dropping the empty cup into the bin, Aoi made his way towards the basement door, fully intent on taking a walk to try and sort his thoughts.  
  
“Where do you think you are going?” Miyavi demanded, his arms crossing over his chest while his hand still clutched the remote control, his knuckles turning white from the strong grip. When it became apparent that he was not about to get an answer anytime soon, Miyavi threw the control down onto the counter and stormed over to the door after Aoi.  
  
“Listen to me!” he commanded. Aoi stilled, frozen stiff in the doorway. It was an old habit, one that he could not break. Miyavi demanded, commanded and Aoi obeyed.  
  
“Do you have the slightest clue what you have done?” Miyavi yelled, causing Aoi to flinch with each word. Aoi had never really realised just how annoying it was to hear Miyavi yell especially since Miyavi didn’t have the prettiest voice in the world. It was like nails on a chalk board or metal grinding against glass or any other number of maddening sounds.  
  
But, as always, Miyavi commanded and he obeyed...  
  
Or at least Aoi used to.  
  
Whirling on his heels, Aoi turned to face Miyavi, eyes ablaze with anger and blood surging with a strange form of power that he had no recollection of ever feeling before.  
  
“No, Miyavi,” he said sarcastically, “of course I don’t! I am just here to follow your every command and don’t think for myself. I’m the puppet, remember?”  
  
It was the best excuse he could come up with. To say that Aoi was just as shocked about everything as Miyavi was would have been an understatement but even so he hid it well with his cool exterior. If Miyavi asked him to explain just what the hell he was thinking by plastering his tag all over the SS Database, Aoi wouldn’t have been able to give a straight answer.  
  
Last night seemed a bit of a blur and maybe it was down to lack of sleep or temporary insanity but it had all seemed like a jolly good idea at the time.  
  
Once he had managed to get through all the levels of security – and they had a shitload – he restored the file just as the job asked. He was about to exit out of it when his hand seemed to freeze up on its own.  
  
What was the point? Sure, he got lots of money out of this job, but why? No one would know. No one would know that it was him – that it was _Yūrei_ – who broke into the database let alone that anyone had actually achieved it in the first place. Obviously the restored file would be accessed by someone and they would know, but that was it. Some thug with the brain the size of a peanut hardly constituted as the rest of the world.  
  
How was he meant to get his name up in lights like he always dreamed if he didn’t take risks?  
  
At least, that was the reason Aoi had repeated to himself over and over again when he couldn’t sleep after he’d done it. Like a kid with a can of spray paint he had just plastered his name everywhere, anywhere that he could get into the code and sure, maybe it was a little childish but damn it had made him feel good.  
  
Of course that was until he had to face Miyavi. In all honesty he hadn’t expected the authorities to find out about it so quickly, let alone have it reach the press and it was only through sick chance that Miyavi had been up and awake early enough to catch the morning news.  
  
A twisted game that convinced Aoi that fate was working against him. Lady luck could be such a fickle bitch at times.  
  
Miyavi had had enough, Aoi could see it flash across his face and glint within his eyes. Maybe Aoi was pushing this too far... yet as Miyavi reached out and grabbed Aoi by both his shoulders, he realised that no, he was taking this right where it needed to go. This confrontation had been a long time in coming and it was almost revitalizing to finally be embarking on what would probably be their last journey.  
  
“You’re an idiot! A fool! A liability!” Miyavi didn’t yell it, just snarled it out like a cornered beast. With each word he gave Aoi a shake as if that could somehow rattle the severity of the situation into Aoi’s brain.  
  
For his part Aoi just felt his entire body judder, his brain bouncing around like cooking popcorn. His eyes fluttered with each violent shake though try as he might, he couldn’t keep the sarcastic undertones from showing on his face. This was just stupid and fucked if he could remember why he’d been so scared of Miyavi all these years.  
  
Resolve still thoroughly in place despite the spinning of his head, Aoi just glared at Miyavi, his teeth firmly clenched against the shaking until he could find the words that he needed.  
  
“You are the one that said that I could do anything; that they’d never find me,” Aoi snarled back. So that wasn’t really why he had tagged the SS Database, but it at least played a little part in it all. “I decided to test it out.” The grip around his upper arms tightened as he spoke, sending little waves of pain up to his shoulders and making his hands involuntary twitch at the jolts of his convulsing muscles. “Now back off.”  
  
His tone left nothing to the imagination and Miyavi’s grip loosened as if he could actually visualized Aoi at the gym. With a flick of his arms, Aoi dislodged Miyavi’s grip altogether and glared heatedly at the man. Hands up and open, Miyavi took a step backwards, giving Aoi his space for which the other man was exceedingly thankful.  
  
Aoi watched as Miyavi seemed to just slump in on himself. His normally square, proud shoulders curved as he shrunk into one of the kitchen chairs. “You realise that this could ruin us, don’t you?” Even his voice held no traces of the imposing figure that Aoi used to see when looking at him.  
  
Aoi blinked at the words. Slowly he felt their meaning taking over, boiling his blood and raising his anger and oddly there was a voice in the back of his mind thankful that he didn’t have the ability to shoot sticky tape out of his eyes after all.  
  
“Us?” he demanded with what could almost have passed as a laugh. “There is no ‘us’, Miyavi. It was always about you and your life while Kai and I did all the work. There never was an ‘us’. Why should I go out of my way to protect something that was never acknowledged?”  
  
Miyavi looked at him then with those dark commanding eyes and Aoi just saw sorrow. It was such an alien expression in the other man that Aoi actually found himself taking a step backwards.  
  
“There was never an ‘us’ because you wouldn’t open yourself up to it.”  
  
Aoi didn’t know what he had been expecting but it sure as hell wasn’t that. It wasn’t like he had Miyavi pinned and worked out to the letter, but his silent resignation was something of a mystery. At the same time Aoi had hardly been expecting Miyavi to throw himself at Aoi’s feet and beg and plead either so all in all, he guessed that this sort of quiet acceptance was the best way it could go.  
  
Still, it angered Aoi, how Miyavi somehow managed to turn everything around. Just like a movie super villain accused in front of the love of his life, Miyavi found a way to make Aoi feel like he was the bastard. Aoi hated him even more for it.  
  
“Don’t do that,” Aoi protested, oddly calmer than he ever thought possible.  
  
“What? I’m not-”  
  
“You’re doing that thing were you try to make out like it is some huge misunderstanding,” Aoi interrupted. “I don’t want to hear it.” That was the god honest truth. He didn’t want to hear Miyavi sprout pretty lies and false promises. It wasn’t the way this was supposed to go anyway.  
  
Miyavi laughed at that, a dry, sinisterly sardonic laugh that Aoi had never heard before. “I guess its lucky then.” He looked up at Aoi and even now, looking at the remnants of Miyavi’s broken control, Aoi found himself shivering. Those eyes; they could look right through you and burn the entire way.  
  
“It’s your life,” Miyavi finally said when the silence between them got to be too much. “I don’t think I need to tell you again that you shouldn’t have done that. It was stupid and my god, Aoi, it was risky.” Again those cold eyes locked with Aoi’s and for a moment he almost felt himself agreeing with the other man.  
  
“But, as I said, it’s your life. Not mine, not Kai’s and not this operations.”  
  
Miyavi didn’t need to say the exact words but Aoi knew precisely what the hell he was saying. This was Aoi’s problem and if things got hot, he’d be burning alone. Fair and square, with no flowerily words or pretence of help and in a way, Aoi knew that he deserved that.  
  
Besides, if anything, it was better that way. And after those words neither of them needed to point out that Aoi would only be back to get his stuff. Granted he had no clue where to go or how to even go about getting his way out of the city, but he’d happily rot before he came back and lived under this roof.  
  
Sighing, Aoi needed to be out of there. He could almost feel the walls closing in on him, pulsing ever closer as if they had a mind and life of their own. It was suffocating, choking and mentally draining.  
  
Snatching up his keys and a folded piece of paper, he moved to the door and tucked both into his jacket. He really didn’t need the address he’d pulled out of the envelope instructing him on where and when to collect the rest of the money - somehow it had just committed itself to his memory – but he opted to take it anyway.  
  
“Where are you going?” Miyavi asked. It was a strange sound to Aoi. He’d never once heard Miyavi ask for something. He demanded, commanded and expected, but never just asked.  
  
Pushing his arms through the sleeves of his jacket, Aoi shot Miyavi a look that was almost pitying. It was astounding just how quickly the dominating fell and crumbled when challenged and Aoi couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man.  
  
“To get the rest of my fucking money,” he said, and then just to be mean and crush the scraps of happiness even further, he added, “and when I came back it will be for my stuff and nothing else.”

  
  
*****

  
  
The streets were no place for anyone alone, especially after dark. Not even for someone as street-wise as Ruki liked to think he was. It seemed that as soon as the sun fell, every criminal, drug-dealer, hustler or just every person that one would consider to be creepy emerged, their lives suddenly kicking into action after having spent the day lost in the shadows.  
  
Every street was covered in filth, sleek and wet with both the condensation of the cold night air and grime and dirt that seemed to cling to everything like a bad smell. Dark alleyways that were normally avoided even in daylight became places to be avoided at all cost; where even the brave feared to tread. Steam rose from the dank sewer vents in the road, filling the streets with an eerie fake fog that dampened skin, clothes and spirits alike. The homeless that usually seemed to disappear during the daylight hours lined the streets, their rag covered hands stretched out to any passer-by that looked as if they had a few coins to spare and their cold-worn, scratchy voices crying their woe out into the cold night air. Prostitutes walked up and down the corners that they had long claimed as theirs, calling out to any that may be interested or poking their heads into cars, trying to entice those within into accepting their prices.  
  
Keeping his head low, Ruki walked briskly down the crowded streets, ignoring the cat calls and the occasional beep of a horn directed his way. He knew this place too well, knew the type of people too well - the ones that didn’t want some common whore but were up for the challenge in gaining his attention. It probably didn’t help that he had spent a number of occasions on these very streets, succumbing to those beeps and hollers for whatever reason he deemed drastic enough. Things like that always happened in this part of town but it was the only place that someone like him could completely disappear.  
  
This had been near the area that Uruha had first seen him, sitting on a brick wall and trying not to look too out of place. Things had changed since then, changed a lot. Ruki was no longer that little boy acting as if he belonged in a world that he had no clue about. Now he was just one of the many other faces that wanted nothing more than to be forgotten; a full fledged member of the sticks. One that could move about, going about his own business without gaining a second glance from anyone here – well, anyone apart from the rowdy men that had nothing better to do with their time.  
  
Turning another corner, Ruki only got half a dozen steps into the street before he heard that telltale click of more feet. He was being followed and they weren’t taking an awful lot of effort to hide that fact.  
  
Ruki had been walking them around in circles for close to an hour now, hell maybe it had been even more. He really couldn’t be sure.  
  
At first it had been nothing more than a sneaking suspicion. The same damn one he’d been feeling for days now and the same damn one that he had been trying hella hard to ignore. But then he’d heard the footsteps, the soft scuffing of shoes that were desperately trying not to make a noise and failing rather miserably at that.  
  
Clued on, Ruki had changed his direction. Partly he didn’t want to lead them where he worked and partly just to see if they did follow him. Maybe he was being paranoid, he told himself, especially since none of the other sneaky suspicious feelings of the past few days were accompanied by noise. While it was the same feeling of dread at the idea of being followed, Ruki already knew that it was a completely different person. Well persons as there was more than one set of footsteps.  
  
Ruki knew these streets well but there was no way that he could bank on the thugs being lost. Kids like that grew up on these streets, knew them better than they did the faces of their parents.  
  
It was that reason alone that saw him abruptly stopping. Turning on his heels, his eyes automatically sought out the leader, picking him easily out of the group of five. Face cold and expressionless, Ruki met the leaders’ glare heatedly and took a step towards the group.  
  
“Fuck! Wadda ya want?” It was a pretty typical thing to say but Ruki didn’t give a fuck. He was never one for unnecessary words anyway and in situations like this it was much easier to cut straight to the chase.  
  
“I’m’a gonna let ya go an’ it’ll be ya only chance t’run.” Ruki said. His words were met with the expected jeering from the group as they fanned out to surround him. Ruki just rolled his eyes; typical streets thugs. There was a reason that they weren’t associated with any yakuza families and it sure as hell wasn’t through personal choice. These guys were shit, to put it bluntly, and relied on numbers to gang beat people.  
  
As if Ruki’s thoughts needed to be confirmed, one of the men stepped forward and, with no preamble at all, slammed his fist into Ruki’s face.  
  
The man’s closed fist smashed into the side of Ruki’s mouth, automatically drawing blood as Ruki’s lip split. He could feel the sharp press of his teeth against his inner lip and at the taste that flooded his mouth he knew that he had almost bitten straight through. The force of the blow sent his head wheeling and all too quickly he found his eyes locked onto the floor as he struggled to keep his footing.  
  
Sure, he may have been playing it up a little more than he needed to by adding in the slight stumble and the faked gasp of pain, but it wasn’t like these morons were going to notice. All in all it brought him a little time as they joked and cheered and set him up as the nice, easy target that he sure as hell wasn’t.  
  
Ruki never ceased to find it amusing just how people always went for the mouth. Stupid really, especially when there were so many better, more deadly places to target.  
  
As if teaching the little fucks through action, Ruki’s head snapped straight back up. Shooting the man a glare that could kill, the short bartender used the ball of his palm to smash against the nose of the man who’d hit him. Blood sprayed out as the cartilage exploded and the thugs face twisted into agony. Ruki grinned sadistically, feeling nothing more than a small throb in his hand. That’s what people never realised; closed fists hurt the attacker more than the target. Idiots.  
  
“C’me on, boy,” Ruki taunted. His hands stayed by his sides even as his fingers made provocative, beckoning motions. The man grinned around the blood, an action that painted a disturbing image but one that was a dead give away to the gang’s plans.  
  
Just looking at that grinning face saw Ruki ducking. It was like the reflection of the thug behind him was shown in the smeared blood all over the others face and Ruki almost wanted to sigh. People really didn’t get it. It was such a typical attempt at a distraction that the guy may as well have told Ruki that someone was sneaking up at him from behind. Morons.  
  
As expected, a crowbar swung harmlessly over Ruki’s lowered head. Seeing the opportunity for what it was, Ruki stayed in his ducked position and charged the man with the broken nose. His shoulder slammed into the man’s stomach, winding him and making it easier for Ruki to drive him backwards.  
  
The other man stumbled back. Changing his grip, Ruki took the guy by the throat and when the strangers back hit the wall, Ruki paid particular attention to the thugs head. With a snap of his wrist, Ruki sent the man’s skull colliding against the stone wall. Brown eyes rolled back and the man went limp in his arms. Releasing his grip, Ruki let the man slide unceremoniously to the ground; served the fucker right anyway.  
  
Ruki turned to see the man with the crowbar charging at him, all limbs and waving bar and no brains. Again Ruki ducked and drove his fist up into the man’s stomach. Like an adult confiscating a child’s toy, Ruki snatched the crowbar away from the man before bending his elbow and sending it in a high arch. It collided with the man’s jaw and from the way he cried out and fell Ruki could tell that he had broken it.  
  
The crowbar slipped through his closed fist until the bent head was wrapped around his hand. Gripping it tightly, Ruki’s feet shifted and his arms moved into a well learnt position. While sword fighting was somewhat archaic these days, he’d been schooled well in his younger years and it was a skill that stayed with him no matter where life took him.  
  
With two down there was only two more to go plus the leader. It was almost depressingly easy for Ruki, especially when one of the remaining two ran at him and did about as much damage as a gust of air. The thug practically impaled himself against the end of the crowbar, an act that brought him up startlingly short as his eyes expanded in disbelief.  
  
Ruki blinked at the surprised expression and merely cuffed the man on the side of the head with the length of the metal rod. He then balanced his weight expertly on his left foot while kicking out at the man with his right. The thug stumbled backwards and landed in a heap on top of one of his friends. Ruki smiled and flourished the makeshift sword, bringing it to a relaxed position down by his side.  
  
The last thug seemed to have the smarts of the group. At least to an extent. The way his face was pale and his hands trembled showed that he was less than eager to approach, but Ruki saw the deadly look the leader used to get the man moving.  
  
Ruki almost felt sorry for him as he drove the tip of the crowbar into the man’s stomach. Had it been a sword it would have been a killing blow, no doubt about it.  
  
The man doubled over all slow like as he gasped for air and Ruki saw it as his duty to whack him once more for good measure. Maybe next time the kid would think twice before blindly following orders. As it was, the thug shot a nasty look to his leader as his body crumbled like a rag doll. Ruki ignored him and stepped over the body like it was nothing more than a dirty smudge on the street.  
  
“’Ad enough?” Ruki questioned with a small smile. As much as he tried to avoid confrontations like these they had a certain way of appealing to his darker self. It was exhilarating, making his heart speed up in a pleasant sort of way.  
  
The leader didn’t respond. In a way it threw Ruki off. He was expecting some smart assed answer that would make almost no sense; silence, while the smarter option, was just boring. Instead, the man came at him, a butterfly knife in hand and a determined, self-appraising look on his face.  
  
Whirling into action, Ruki was spinning on his heels with his short jacket flapping up in the breeze and had his gun in his hand all before the brat had time to gasp. The leader skidded to a stop, his eyes huge and yet accusing, giving Ruki the feeling that if he took a moment to care, he had probably broken some unwritten rule by pulling the gun.  
  
Ruki inwardly shrugged; he was never one to play by others rules anyway, and as the attacked one, he had every right to rewrite the rules as he saw fit. He merely flicked the safety off of the gun and cocked the hammer as he pointed it at the leaders head. The crowbar hung by his left side.  
  
“Now,” Ruki said, hard and cold as stone, “I’d be suggin’ that ya move on ya way ‘afore I’a start gettin’ trigger ‘appy.” The man’s mouth hung open, a wholly unattractive expression, as he looked between his fallen comrades and the barrel of the gun nestled rudely in his face.  
  
Ruki watched him, staring into his eyes as if he could read the man’s thoughts. The thug was scared. Whatever reason he had for sending his little possie after Ruki, he hadn’t been expecting Ruki to fight back with such vigour. It had a way of making Ruki angry, setting his blood to boil in response to their stupidity.  
  
Without thinking or allowing the man the time to back down, Ruki brought his left hand up and whacked him over the head almost playfully with the crowbar. “Ya idiot,” Ruki muttered as he repeated the action. The man flinched and groaned, his hand reaching up to make a grab at Ruki, the crowbar or maybe both. Ruki shot the man a chastising look, spun the gun in his hand and slammed the butt of it into the man’s nose. The leader fell just like the rest, proving that he was nothing overly special either.  
  
A pile of bodies lay in the street, most unconscious and those who weren’t were groaning in misery. Ruki wanted to think that maybe he’d done them a favour by teaching them to choose their targets a little more carefully next time, but he highly doubted the lesson would sink in.  
  
Spitting a glob of blood to the ground, Ruki cursed his fucking luck and whole wide world with it. Somehow he knew he hadn’t seen the last of the punks and that if anything, things would probably just get worse now. There was that little inner voice whispering in his ear, telling him that he should have just faced the music and made them all bite one of his bullets then and there.  
  
“I know, I know,” he muttered to his own mind while flicking a completely new drop of crimson from his lip. Whether or not that voice was right was completely open to interpretation, but there was one thing he did know. He couldn’t do this alone and that meant that he’d have to call for backup. There was only one person he almost trusted to get his back in a situation like this.  
  
Throwing the crowbar back at its owner, Ruki walked off the way he had come, disturbingly aware of the feeling of still being watched.

  
  
*****

  
  
Atsushi flicked the TV set off with a growl.  
  
It had been the only thing that they were talking about all morning, channel after channel, reporter after reporter. Hell, the news of the hack had even made it to the mornings talk back panel where people called in and discussed their thoughts. None of which, Atsushi noted, were overly pretty.  
  
With the chatter of the news reporter no longer filling the room, Atsushi was left with the silence of his own thoughts. At the moment all he could think about was rage. There was a big difference between knowing that you had dirty cops working under you and actually _knowing_. With the evidence staring him right in the face, it somehow became more real and he couldn’t help but glance at some of the more suspect officers.  
  
A presence moved up to stand behind him and Atsushi didn’t need to look to know that it was his new partner. Toru stopped on Atsushi’s right, tall and silent with that usual deep intelligence in his eyes. Thankfully the younger man had apparently taken a vow of silence for this little escapade and Atsushi was again stuck by the others intellect. He’d already worked out that talking to Atsushi while he was in one of his moods wasn’t the best of ideas so in a way he was just there, making his presence known. Atsushi almost felt like he could draw strength off the other man, as if just by being there his new, run-of-the-mill rookie partner was helping him.  
  
“Who the fuck…?” Was all Atsushi said. It wasn’t overly loud, not anywhere near to a yell but those tiny little words were enough to make everyone stop dead in their tracks.  
  
It was like the entire office just froze. People stopped moving, papers stopped rustling; the room as a whole ceased to breathe. That was, all except Atsushi as he turned a dark glare on each and every one of his workers.  
  
And then one of the phones rang and it all picked up again. The noise erupted like the deafening screams of an out of control car and the ice holding people in the place crumbled away.  
  
Atsushi sighed. As much as he would love to work out who ratted them out to the press even he knew that it was a futile hope. It was a harsh fact of life that more than just a few of the cops had their hands in something illegal, or were getting paid a lot better than your average, law abiding citizen.  
  
Besides, he had more pressing things to work on.  
  
“Sir?” Toru interrupted his thoughts. Without looking back at him, Atsushi started weaving his way through the office, merely waving his consent to speak.  
  
Toru cleared his throat; a habit that Atsushi knew was a bad sign and normally preceded the coming of bad news. Inwardly he grimaced and tried hard to brace himself for whatever else the young officer had found.  
  
Before Toru could start, one of the departments receptionists raced up to Atsushi’s left, trying to hand Atsushi a file. Before he had time to reach for it, Toru dutifully collected it instead. Atsushi frowned, finding the actions of the other somewhat brash, but then noticed that Toru didn’t look at it – not even the title – just tucked it under his arm for later. Vaguely Atsushi found himself relaxing a little more; it was nice, in a way, to have someone doing those little mundane things for him.  
  
“There is a congregation of reporters outside.” All pleasant thoughts that had been running through Atsushi’s mind disappeared with those few words. “They are one step away from breaking through the door…”  
  
Atsushi stopped, his eyes fluttering closed as his hand instantly reached to pinch at the bridge of his nose. Of course. There were always reporters and just like the prying scum that they were, they’d be lapping this up for all it was worth and then some. He would have been stupid if he thought it could try and avoid an impromptu press conference.  
  
“Maybe you should…” Toru pressed gently. Atsushi felt the kid’s eyes lock onto him and for a moment he found himself hating Toru. Hating him with a passion because the kid was right.  
  
“How many?” he asked. There was no way of getting around making a statement to the press and Atsushi knew it but he at least wanted to be prepared before walking out there and facing the media’s version of a firing squad. At the moment they had nothing. No external line, no traceable signal; not even any clue as to how the hacker had gotten in there in the first place. Toru’s search, while still underway, had turned up next to nothing that the police didn’t already know.  
  
Toru nodded his head a few times, a far off look crossing his face as he appeared to count the number of journalists in his head. Eyes narrowing, Atsushi watched the man closely, wondering if the kid was just stalling for time or if he had something of a photographic memory.  
  
“All major channels, five newspapers… an assortment of others,” Toru squinted, “and off to the left is a gentleman who, if I am not mistaken, runs something of a news gossip blog for an ISP. He has been tagged as the next big thing with millions of people subscribing to his collum.”  
  
The smile that spread across Toru’s face as he revealed that little piece of information was enough to tell Atsushi that they were already starting to think alike. It was both a worrying and yet pleasing thought. While the personalities of all of Atsushi’s previous partners varied greatly, he had only ever had one with that same streak of abstract thinking who had been more than willing to throw the rule book out the window. Sadly, that partner had soon followed in the wake of said rule book and hadn’t been heard of since.  
  
The idea of filtering through some information to the hacker was a dangerous one, but a good one even if they had to stretch the truth a bit. Anything and everything that could make the guy panic would be a blessing. “Think our perpetrator could be one of those subscribers?”  
  
“Let’s hope so.” Toru’s smile reached his eyes, lightening them up as he turned and followed Atsushi.  
  
The look on Atsushi’s face was enough to ensure that they had a clear path out into the main corridor of the office. Taking a moment to straighten his suit and roll his shoulders, Atsushi mentally prepared himself for what was about to happen the moment he stepped out of the door.  
  
“Hang on,” Toru called, pulling Atsushi to an abrupt halt. The kid moved forward and, while offering Atsushi one of his trademark shy smiles, reached up and flattened a section of the detective’s hair. Atsushi shot Toru a puzzled look but refrained from commenting. “That’s better.”  
  
Atsushi glanced at the door nervously. In all honestly he hated doing these sorts of things. While he was quick witted and more than capable of thinking on his feet, he found the entire ordeal almost horrific. Putting himself out there in front of those cameras and microphones was akin to offering himself to a hungry dog while wearing a necktie of sausages. Common sense dictated against it.  
  
“Do you want me to come out as well?” Toru asked.  
  
That was a good question and one that Atsushi hadn’t really thought about. Normally he handled these sorts of things on his own but that was mostly because none of his partners wanted their face publicly displayed for all Yakuza to see.  
  
Atsushi shrugged. “You are more than welcome to if you are up for it.”  
  
He should have guessed the answer. Toru grinned again, this time somewhat goofily and almost bounced where he stood. “Great way to learn!” he said finally. With a wave of his hand he signalled to one of the office clerks and handed them the file he’d been carrying. “Make sure this goes straight onto Detective Sakurai’s desk.”  
  
“Let’s get this over with…” The words were said with the conviction of one long since resigned to an ugly fate and once again Atsushi turned to the door. He could hear them already, the press of voices and scuffing of feet. Camera equipment scraped against the cement as the photographers no doubt struggled to get a good position and balanced ground for their tripods. They sounded like an angry mob, armed with flaming torches and pitchforks and Atsushi had no doubt that they would gladly string him and everyone else within the station up, especially in light of the recent happenings.  
  
Walking out of the door with Toru at his right elbow, Atsushi didn’t even have a moment to gather his bearings or look for the internet journalist. A reporter shoved their microphone in Atsushi’s face straight away and the sea of others followed suit, pushing forward until those in front looked near to suffocation. Then again, Atsushi guessed that that was the price of wanting to get the best story.  
  
There was no grace, no preamble to all this, just the desperate need to get the facts and to be the one who asked the right questions.  
  
“How could a security breech of this size happen?”  
  
Trying not to show his displeasure, Atsushi kept his voice clear as he spoke directly into the man’s microphone. “While sizable, no security system is without fault. It was inevitable that-” His words were cut off as another jumped higher and shouted their question over the top of everyone else, their recorder waving in the air.  
  
“This is the second time this offender has targeted the police database? What does this mean?”  
  
“It means nothing-”  
  
“What steps are you taking to guard the private information of Tokyo’s civilians?”  
  
“Is it likely that the person has ties to organized crime?”  
  
Angry faces and angry words overtook Atsushi’s response, drowning it out in a sea of commotion. The reporters started to squabble among themselves, glaring at each other as they shouted their questions. It was a sad sight to see. These were the people keeping the city informed of recent happenings and they were acting no better than bullies and children. All it did was reaffirm Atsushi’s hatred for the media and the way that they conducted themselves. It was atrocious and an insult to the intelligence of the general public.  
  
“Please,” Atsushi said, holding his hands up for silence. He could feel himself getting mad, angrier and angrier with each look passed between rival journalists. Really, what set them apart from the wars of the gangs? “We will endeavour to answer all your questions, so please, one at a time.”  
  
“Can we expect such blunders from this department in the future?”  
  
In hopes of settling the crowd Atsushi had signed his own death warrant. He’d been expecting questions like that, but not so early or so loud and clear. It was that question more than his previous promise that had the crowd stilling, their cries and petty squabbles all but forgotten.  
  
Feeling his face getting redder and redder, Atsushi was about to start throttling people. Well, it was that or his head was about to explode. But then, as if his day couldn’t get any more unpredictable, the strangest of things happened.  
  
A hand brushed against his arm, gently pushing him to the side and Toru’s mouth was at his ear. “Let me try and shut them up.” The younger man didn’t allow Atsushi the chance to respond as he moved forward and took a place by the microphone. To Atsushi it was pretty much the last straw, the moment that would make him snap.  
  
That was, at least, until Toru opened his mouth.  
  
“In the fast changing world that we find ourselves in, it is impossible to predict what will happen. Especially when it comes to computers.” He smiled, brilliant and charming and Atsushi was sure that everyone in the crowd just fell for him; just like that and easier than waking up in the morning.  
  
“It is imperative to remember that this is not a database just for this precinct. This server is world wide and accessible to hundreds of talented law enforcement agencies in countless countries. While yes, the breech is believed to have been from someone within this district of Tokyo it does not fall on this department to vouch for the security setup of the database in the first place.” Again he offered one of those heart winning smiles.  
  
Toru flicked a section of his fringe out of his eyes and blinked slightly. Atsushi was sure that if anyone else pulled a move like that, the press would have eaten them up and spat them out within an instant. But not Toru. Already the reporters were nodding their agreement, chatting to each other and furiously scribbling notes with pleased grins on their faces.  
  
As if Toru needed to win them over even more – which he didn’t – he once again leaned down to the podium and said, “Though it is a horrendous act, I think that it should be noted that we, here at the Kabukichō District Police Station came across the breech first and please rest assure that we are taking all necessary steps to sort this matter out. We are already tracking the identity of the culprit and the news of the breech has been sent out to the other nations involved in this joint project.  
  
“I am certain that this precinct, under the unwavering guidance of Detective Sakurai, will have the offender brought before the court of law within no time at all. In the meantime, further steps will be taken to ensure the safety of all files within the police department so that there will never be a repeat of this incident.”  
  
“What sort of information was accessed?”  
  
Toru smiled at the lady, warm and friendly even as he replied with a cold, “No comment.”  
  
“Was anything stolen?”  
  
“At this point in time, we can tentatively say no, however a thorough investigation into what was accessed is currently underway. Rest assured that we will pass on all findings that will not conflict with the proceedings of the case as soon as we have them.”  
  
Again the crowd roared into life, questions and accusations being lost within the sea of voices. Toru took it all in his stride while making a show of glancing over his shoulder at Atsushi. The younger man nodded slightly, to which Atsushi found himself easily responding, again seeing the game of deception for what it was.  
  
“You’ll have to excuse us.” Toru said, “As you can imagine we are eager to get this case underway. We will reconvene when we have any additional information. No further questions, thank you.” Just like always, Toru offered the crowd his deep, polite bow before moving away from the microphones. A flurry of shouts followed, most asking for his name and who he was, but Toru merely shook his head and smiled at them again.  
  
“I hope you don’t mind…” Toru said as they entered the hallway, Toru pushing the door closed behind them.  
  
Had it been anyone else Atsushi would have been mad at the way they had blatantly overstepped his boundaries yet he was finding it hard to focus on that. Toru had done well out there – better than even Atsushi would have been able to once he got over his rage – and it intrigued the detective. Obviously Toru had come well recommend else he wouldn’t have been partnered with Atsushi in the first place, but the older man was starting to see just why the new superintendent had made the union.  
  
Unable to help himself, Atsushi turned to Toru, offering him a dumbstruck expression. “Where did that come from?”  
  
Toru shrugged and smiled, once again shy and intelligent and not at all like before. “The only son among five sisters who had to share three dolls. You lean how to sweet talk people into doing anything after a childhood like that.”  
  
Despite his better judgement, Atsushi laughed

*****

**Chapter Five preview:**

  
  
For a long moment Aoi just stared at the hole, wondering about its existence and why it had suddenly burst into life. It was a strange feeling; hollow, somewhat mesmerising and oddly timeless. Something in the back of his mind told him that he would always remember this moment though fucked it he could work out why; it was just a damn hole.  
  
That was when he realised that all around him people were dropping to the floor while women screamed and children burst into tears.

*****

Author's Note: I swear that Toru was the great character I ever created! Followed super closely by Wataru (obviously), but god! I love Toru! #nospoilers! 


	7. Chapter Five - The Importance of Black Holes and Private Eyes

*****

Chapter Five

The Importance of Black Holes and Private Eyes 

  
*****

  
  
Turning down the well known road, Ruki clenched his hands inside his pockets, trying to keep them warm with the simple action. The light from the main road hardly touched the darkness of this side street known as ‘The Gauntlet’ though it hardly worried him. He knew these parts like the back of his hand. Ruki knew that up on the roof of the building to his right was a person that he could almost regard as a friend, watching over the street with a gun in hand, acting as guard and protector for all those who had business within the shadows.  
  
Moving to the door, painted black for some unknown reason, Ruki pushed it open and was greeted by the warming flood of yellow light.  
  
“Hey, Ru,” a familiar voice called out from the back of the main room. It was as if they had been expecting him, knowing that sooner or later he would return.  
  
“Heya Wataru,” he said as he pushed the door closed behind him. Ruki welcomed the warmth of the room as it enveloped him.  
  
A man no taller than Ruki walked towards him, a friendly smile on his lips even though it never quite seemed to reach his eyes. Behind Wataru, a fire burned and crackled merrily in a small stone pot. It was no doubt a serious fire hazard but it wasn’t like Ruki was going to say anything about it. He’d rather risk fire than have to resort to other ways to get warm.  
  
Wataru had been a chance meet. One of those guys that like to play the hero though he was far from the normal idea of the tall, dark and handsome knight in shinning amour. Ruki and Wataru’s paths had first crossed about three months after Ruki had moved into what they laughably referred to as ‘the neighbourhood’.  
  
Feeling lost and confused, Ruki had been wandered the local streets, not knowing where he was going or what he was doing. It had been a stupid thing to do, he knew that now, but lucky for him Wataru and his ‘guards’ had been out on ‘duty’ and had helped him when cornered by a gang in a dark alleyway. With an interesting mixture of threats, violence and sweet talk, Wataru and his co-worker Yuusuke - the guy on the roof – managed to get Ruki out of there before anything bad happened.  
  
Turned out that Wataru was a Private Investigator with an excellent track record who just so happened to be looking for some lost kid or something at the time. Ruki really couldn’t remember the specifics but either way, an unlikely friendship was formed between the three of them and, over the next year and a bit, not only could Ruki come to him if anything went horribly wrong, he could rely on him to keep money and anything of value safe. Well, at least safer than Ruki’s sorry excuse for an apartment could offer. At least Wataru’s office had a small safe and a working lock on the door.  
  
In return, he helped him with some of his cases when by keeping and eye and an ear out whenever he could. There were definitely some advantages to working a bar this side of town. Alcohol did wonders to loosen the tongue and even the most closed mouthed of people would be excused for finding Ruki a wonderful confident.  
  
“Let me have a look,” Wataru insisted as soon as he reached Ruki, bringing Ruki to wonder if Wataru had seen the bruise or if it were just an automatic reaction to his out-of-the-blue visits. Gently angling his face up to the light, Wataru looked at the deep bruise, his thin eyebrows coming together in worry. “They got you pretty hard this time,” he said softly and with concern.  
  
Shrugging his chin from his hands, Ruki just shook his head while offering the older man a half smile.  
  
“I’m ok,” he said firmly, “’Sides I’a got ‘em back real good.” Not being able to handle the others intense gaze for too long, he moved over to the door which lead into the back room.  
  
Scratching at the back of his dreadlocks, Ruki wasted no time in flopping down on one of the old chairs Wataru had lying around the place. The office really did look like something out of an old seventies noir movie. The pokey office, the old chairs and the cluttered table had that feel that only a dirty, small-time back-alley private investigator could get away with. An old fan hung at an odd angle from the ceiling and Ruki would bet his last cigarette that it was far too dangerous to turn that thing on.  
  
Other than that, the space was devoid of all signs of individuality. Ruki liked it. Because of that, the room had such a strange, welcoming feeling. He was sure that abstinence was not a technique that would work anywhere else to make people feel at home, but for Wataru and his crumbling little office, it was the perfect touch.  
  
Ruki tried not to think of all the people who had sat in the very seat he was in over the years. It was too much of a hollowing feeling, like the ghosts of the past were lingering.  
  
“Not that I am not glad to see you…” Wataru started, deliberately leaving the sentence hanging as he looked over at Ruki.  
  
Ruki blinked as he was brought out of his thoughts and realised that he could feel the others eyes on him, sense the worry in that somewhat off-putting expression. Wataru had a way of making people nervous. As horrible as it sounded, it was even worse when he was smiling or worried. The slightly older man was far too twitchy, too tightly strung for people to understand. He was just as likely to kiss you as kill you and the way his dark eyes sat under his heavy fringe often gave him a shifty exterior.  
  
However, Ruki still smiled at Wataru’s words, knowing them for the semi-joke that they were. It wasn’t Wataru's fault that he was stuck somewhere between charming and socially inapt.  
  
“I ‘aven’t got nothin’ for ya,” Ruki said with an apologetic smile. He’d been working a case for Wataru, trying to get some information on a guy who apparently stole something pretty huge from a desperate man. Ruki didn’t know the details and he was loath to ask any more than what Wataru had already told him. He found it best not to go poking his nose in any deeper then he needed too. “No ones sayin’ nothin’. Ya crim must ‘ave pulled a disappearin’ act or has ‘nough smarts not t’ go blabbin’ his great theft all o’er the city.” Ruki shrugged and snorted a little laugh. “Don’ know wha’s worse; crims startin’ to disappear or the thought that they’re a getting’ more smarts.”  
  
Neither option was appealing in the slightest, even for him. You start getting too many smart perps running around and suddenly Ruki’s job was made a hell of a lot harder. With each client that walked through the door, the life or death gamble had to be taken. Hell, it had already been taken. The dice had been rolled as soon as they knew where to find him and if they showed up snake eyes then smarts was all Ruki had going for him to get the hell outta there. It was much harder to run away from a smart thug than one who’d been whacked on the head one too many times with a baseball bat.  
  
“Need a favour,” Ruki finally spat out. No matter how much he helped Wataru out he always felt damn well rotten for asking anything of the other man. Had something to do with the fact that Ruki already felt like he owed Wataru and Yuusuke his life – among other things – and that even when he tried to deny it, he loved helping Wataru out on his cases. It was hardly work when you enjoyed yourself.  
  
“What do ya need?” Wataru asked. His words were casual, soft and not at all stressed. There was nothing in the tones to suggest to Ruki that he was pushing his boundaries in the slightly and so he dared to go on.  
  
“Somethin’s up.” Ruki trailed the edge of his thumbnail over his bottom thoughtfully. His Steel grey eyes never once left the leaping flames of the burning fire as he tried to find the best way to approach the subject.  
  
Wataru hardly knew anything about Ruki and Ruki was quite happy to keep it that way. Their friendship was based on the present, and not the past or future. To Wataru, Ruki had ceased to exist before that day in the back ally and Ruki couldn’t be happier thinking the same about Wataru. It was a good arrangement that benefited both of them; anyone in this part of town would tell you that it was far better to keep to yourself than to go pouring your life story out to anyone.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Ruki saw Wataru’s eyebrow arch obviously interested. The P.I’s elbows rested on the sides of his chair, his fingers meeting to form a triangle in front of his face as he kept watching Ruki patiently waiting for the other to elaborate.  
  
“I feel like someone’s watchin’ me.” Ruki finally said. He was fully aware that the impact of the words would be lost to Wataru considering the secrecy between them, but then again, Wataru’s job dealt with half truths all the time.  
  
They knew enough about each other; Wataru used to be a cop – a promising one at that – until he was disbarred following the discovery that he’d been cooking evidence to get a perp put away for longer than the law decided. Since then he had gone on this strange sort of justice spree, his own little holy mission to try and clean up some of the scum from the city.  
  
Thankfully his definition of scum didn’t include Ruki. Wataru knew that Ruki wasn’t just a bartender. Hell, he had even sent some clients needing papers in a hurry to Ruki. The way Wataru put it was that Ruki wasn’t hurting anyone so there wasn’t really any harm done. It was a great little arrangement for the both of them and they even had a sort of boundary wherein they both vowed not to get in each others way. If a particular crim that Wataru was looking for showed up on Ruki’s door, Ruki would make him his damn papers, take his money and give him a good ten minutes head start before calling Wataru and dobbing him in.  
  
It was a harsh form of justice but then nothing in this life was soft and cuddly.  
  
A deep frown settled between Wataru’s eyebrows as his hands moved on their own accord. Ruki watched the investigator pause for only a moment before habit saw him turning in his seat to grab a pen and a notebook. Wasting no time, Wataru flicked to what Ruki assumed with a blank page and clicked the top of the pen, bringing it to life. Call him insane but Ruki found it somewhat refreshing that Wataru was going to treat this as he would any other case.  
  
“Are we talking creepy watching you in the shower and jacking off sort of following or you’re never alone walking down the street?”  
  
Ruki chuckled at the ever polite questions that Wataru came up with. “The latter, at least for the time being,” he supplied. Knowing the way these things typically went, Ruki started to fill the other in with whatever he could.  
  
“It’a started up a few days ago. Was on me way home from work and gods, I swear that there was someone there the whole way. I gave ‘em a bit of a roundabout; was walkin’ ‘round for o’er an hour b’fore finally callin’ it quits but fuck me if they or their budd’s wasn’t still there the next mornin’.”  
  
Wataru hummed in response to the various pieces of information even though his eyes never left the paper in front of him. His hand moved like it had a life of its own, scribbling across the paper with a speed that surprised even Ruki.  
  
“That what happened to your face?” Ruki could tell that the question had been bugging Wataru since the moment he’d walked into the room.  
  
“Yup,” Ruki nodded. “But they was just common; nothin’ more than a shitty lil’ street gang an’ didn’ look li’e they was all too fuss’d on wha’ they was doin’.”  
  
“Hired by someone?”  
  
Ruki nodded to the question. “They wasn’t seemin’ so organised neither, so I’m’a guessin’ that it was a quickie job. Weren’t really expectin’ that I’d’a put up much of a fight.” A grim smile spread across Ruki’s lips, causing the reddening cut to swell and morph his otherwise flawless face.  
  
“Lucky,” Wataru muttered. He was still frantically writing and for a brief moment Ruki wondered if he wasn’t just making stupid sketches in that damn notebook. “Where did they attack?”  
  
“’Round near Finlando Sauna on Bunka Senta-dōri,” Ruki said. Knowing that Wataru would question what he was doing so far out of the way, Ruki offered the other a shrug even though Wataru was still writing. “Was tryin’ to shake ‘em an’ then they pounced.”  
  
Another muffed noise from Wataru and suddenly the pen was getting put down and the notebook folded closed. Ruki had to fight hard to resist the temptation to ask to see the others notes or drawing if his earlier suspicions proved correct.  
  
“I’ll put Yuusuke on them,” Wataru nodded as the pen was once again picked up only to have the top disappear between his lips. “See if he can find anything out about what the hell they are up to or who hired them.”  
  
“Thanks.” It was a small word, but Ruki knew that Wataru wouldn’t doubt its meaning.  
  
“You gonna be alright in the meantime?”  
  
Ruki shot Wataru one of his famous looks, practically chastising the other man. What was Wataru expecting? Ruki to freak out and fall apart? To cry and beg for somewhere to hide?  
  
“I’ll be fine~,” Ruki purred as he slowly pushed himself out of his seat. He would be too. He’d not lived this long, escaped the things he had just to fall apart over some creepy street gang looking at him. Ruki had seen a hell of a lot worse in his life and if they thought he was going to hide and crumple then they were in for a rude shock.  
  
“You still carry around that shiny piece of yours?”  
  
“Don’t go nowhere without it,” Ruki winked at the other while patting the gun hidden under his jacket. It was the only thing that kept his mind at ease these days. His life had never been a quiet one, but it seemed that within the last two years things had managed to escalate into one hell of a whirlwind.  
  
“Good.” Wataru nodded affirmatively. As if Wataru could sense Ruki’s need to get out, he offered the bartender a polite nod and patted the notebook in his lap. “I’ll let you know as soon as we know anything.”  
  
Ruki wasn’t under the impression of Wataru being able to make any miracles happen or anything, but he still hoped for the best.  
  
“Thanks,” he said as he made for the door. “Tell Yuu t’watch his back.” Again, Wataru merely nodded and Ruki didn’t care to wait around for him to say anything else.  


*****

  
  
Aoi liked crowded places. Could have been something to do with his second life and the secrets he kept, but being lost in a sea of people felt rather assuring.  
  
Nothing happened in places like this. No one would know who he was or what he had just done. He was just one of the people, shopping and browsing and hell, having a damn good coffee.  
  
He was sipping at said coffee as he approached the public lockers. In the middle of the shopping centre near the water fountain and surrounded by people it seemed like the prefect place for a cash drop off. Whoever it was who had employed him had thought of everything and Aoi was actually impressed.  
  
It didn’t help that his movie freaked mind was looking at it all like some cop flick. Without being obvious – or even knowing what he was actually looking for – Aoi kept his eyes open for any signs of danger, almost pretending that he was an undercover agent closing in on a suspect.  
  
Feeling overly conspicuous, he dropped his empty coffee cup into a bin and made his way to the control panel of the lockers. The instructions had said locker number 17 and had supplied the four digit access code. Punching in the code, he saw the door of a locker pop open to the left and on the very top row.  
  
He remained as completely neutral as possible. It was hard, trying not to look overly noticeable as he walked towards it. He had put the stuff in there this morning, he told himself, it was just his bags that he didn’t want to carry around while shopping. Nothing more, nothing less.  
  
It was then that he realised that he had nothing to put the cash into. What if it was just loosely shoved in there? He’d need a bag or something. Did people normally supply that stereotypical black suitcase with all cash transactions or was that purely a movie related convenience?  
  
There was only one way to find out, and if he needed a bag he’d just have to play dumb and pretend he’d forgotten something while shopping.  
  
Reaching up to open the door his hand came to an abrupt halt as his jacket snagged on a bent bit of metal.  
  
“Fuck,” he muttered to himself. He tried to tug his sleeve free but the material held tight, threatening to rip. With a mumbled curse and a laborious sigh, he bent down to inspect the severity of the damage before yanking the material free in the same direction it had caught.  
  
Distantly he heard a strange popping sound and as he looked back up, there was a small, black hole in the front of the locker. Aoi frowned, still holding his sleeve and looked at the hole as if he were expecting it to start talking to him like a Disney character.  
  
For a long moment he just stared at the hole, wondering about its existence and why it had suddenly burst into life. It was a strange feeling, hollow, somewhat mesmerising and oddly timeless. Something in the back of his mind told him that he would always remember this moment though fucked if he could work out why; it was just a damn hole.  
  
That was when he realised that all around him people were dropping to the floor while women screamed and children burst into tears.  
  
Odd, Aoi thought. Was there some show that he hadn’t heard about?  
  
It was like flicking on a light switch. When you start out the room is dark, there is nothing to see and it all means nothing. But then, with such an easy action, light floods the room, the shadows run and scramble to the deepest corners and everything that you couldn’t see at the beginning suddenly makes sense.  
  
That was how it was with Aoi and that little black hole. It probably would have been easier if it grew arms and eyes like a living mushroom and slapped him hard, but thankfully he came to the conclusion all on his own.  
  
“Holy shit!” he yelled. His arms flailed out to the sides as his feet skidded on the polished floors, both results of the violent double take. Just as the world seemed to click into place there was another muffled noise and that first black hole found itself a friend.  
  
Someone was fucking shooting at him!  
  
He’d seen enough movies to know how these things went down, which, he cynically reminded himself, was a hell of a lot different to real life. Logic would dictate that the shooter was up higher than him, cursing Aoi with the disadvantage of being a damned sitting duck and considering the way he’d just been standing there for so long, the term ‘sitting duck’ really didn’t seem to adequately describe the extent of his stupidity.  
  
Like a crazy trailer, glimpses of various movies flashed through his mind at breakneck speed. They all melded into one huge shoot out scene. Shopping centres, airports, abandoned buildings, which thanks to that ever present cynical voice in the back of his head, he quickly realised weren’t actually abandoned. Someone was in there, right, so they were in fact occupied and this was hardly the time to be debating such stupid concepts with himself.  
  
Like a film student doing an in-depth character study, Aoi quickly pulled certain aspects of useful information out of the jumble of his brain and tried to work out how to execute them like they did in the movies. It was somewhat of a stupid way to approach the situation but at the moment it was all he had to go on and the actions of the unlikely heroes from such films was the only thing stopping him from freezing up like a deer in the headlights.  
  
With his arms over his head, he ducked low and ran, not wasting the time to pick a direction. All he needed was cover. Somewhere he could gain his bearings and, had he been some hero cop, get his guns out. Not that he had guns but if he did and was actually able to shoot he was sure that that would be the best time to get his shit together.  
  
Bullets whizzed overheard, smashing into windows, shattering shop-wears and tearing up the polished floors. Aoi just kept his head down and ran for all he was worth as the people around him screamed and scurried away from him.  
  
It was not like the movies at all.  
  
He wondered how script writers got it all so very wrong. There was nothing brave about this; it was a desperate flight to try and save his fucking skin. The further he ran the more people he passed, the more he endangered them and there was nothing nice about that feeling. As he jumped over a fallen shopping bag and skidded across the floor to avoid trampling a crying child, he found himself almost expecting someone to crash tackle him and hold him still just so the shooter would stop tearing the place apart. He wouldn’t have held it against them either.  
  
No part of movies actually portrayed what he felt like to be running for your life. It was terrifying, horrific and all consuming. The human body wasn’t meant to deal with such stress and maybe it was just due to his sheltered life, but all he wanted to do was collapse and try to deal with the shock before he had to proceed any further.  
  
They also failed to describe the gut wrenching terror of those around you, those who were completely innocent and just trying to do their damn shopping. People were with their families, on dates, or just wanting to lose themselves in the world of retail therapy. That was all. And now they were on the floor, shaking in terror and bearing witness to what could turn into a possible slaughter.  
  
Nothing about it seemed fair and even though Aoi’s overbearing sense of self preservation kept his feet moving, he felt his heart freezing up. He couldn’t look at anyone, couldn’t bring himself to meet any of the gazes he knew were directed up at him from underneath folded arms. The weight of the people’s accusation was crushing him with a biting clarity that surprised Aoi.  
  
Whether he made it out of this alive or not, nothing would ever be the same; he would never be the same.  
  
In this one moment everything that was innocent about him was taken, crushed underfoot like the shattered fragments of bullet pierced glass. It no longer mattered that he helped little old ladies cross the street, or that he used to sit with the school reject just so that he wouldn’t be alone. None of that was him anymore. It was the past, a fragment of what his life could have been and from now on, deep, deep down, he knew that it would be bullets and violence, gunpowder and blood.  
  
What mattered now was that he was dangerous. Maybe not Aoi himself, but whoever was following him was a danger to those around Aoi. These people, all so innocent and unsuspecting would have to live with the terror they felt today and that was all due to Aoi. If someone was hurt or worse then it was on Aoi’s hands. He may as well have pulled the trigger the moment he made the conscious decision to accept his latest job. Or maybe further. It was a slow travelling bullet; one that had carved its way through life since Aoi first touched a computer and fell in love with the rush of it all.  
  
Either way there was nothing warm and fuzzy about that feeling and Aoi knew that his earlier thoughts had been correct. The appearance of that tiny black hole had changed his life completely.  
  
Pain erupted in his left arm and again Aoi felt cheated. Movies needed to come with a scratch and sniff option; a touch and feel special feature cause none of them quite told how a bullet ripping through skin actually felt.  
  
It was like a burn, a scolding flare of hot oil eroding the skin away even though he already knew that it was gone. A part of him was missing; a chunk that had followed through with the bullet and that was an even more hollowing feeling.  
  
It was strange how all those thoughts occurred to him before his mind actually acknowledged he’d been hit. A person just behind him was now screaming blue murder and Aoi didn’t want to think why. Had the bullet hit them or was it just that they’d been splattered with Aoi’s blood. Either way, it wasn’t an overly pretty sort of screaming and it chilled Aoi to the very bone.  
  
Somehow, despite the pain and regardless of the screaming and pure terror of the place, he managed to keep running. There was an exit to the car park just around the corner and he felt like his life depended on reaching it, which when he looked at it, it really did.  
  
Aoi knew nothing about guns. He couldn’t tell what sort of weapon it was firing at him like some cool TV cop could. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if it was a hand gun or a rifle. All he knew was that it didn’t seem to be running out of bullets and the way the shooter kept firing he gathered that there were plenty more where they all came from.  
  
He also wasn’t confident that dashing into the car park was an overly smart idea, but it sure beat the hell out of staying around inside and getting shot. Again. As far as he could tell there was no signs of the shooter having backup so once he was through the door he should be able to buy himself some time. Movies dictated that most assassins got attached to their weapons and Aoi was banking on that being truth. It would mean that his attacker would have to pack up his equipment and make it downstairs before he could follow which, considering the overwhelming amount of witnesses, the gunman would probably be hesitant to show himself so openly.  
  
It was with that in mind that Aoi made the final dash towards the emergency exit and nothing, he told himself, could be more of an emergency than getting shot at.  
  
His wounded arm burned as he slammed the door open. He really hadn’t been expecting it to hurt so damn much that he couldn’t actually move it, but it wasn’t like he had a wealth of experience to base his opinions on.  
  
The door slammed behind him and he was suddenly out in the cold night air, faced with a darkened car park and no one in sight. Seeing no other option he just continued to run. Time was of the essence and he was determined not to squander it.  
  
As his feet pounded against the cement, eating up meter after meter like the jowls of a hungry dog, he realised that he was panting hard. Each breath burnt his lungs and stung his throat and maybe it was just through the lack of air or the shock or hell, even the blood loss, but his head was starting to feel dangerously light headed.  
  
With startling clarity he knew that he couldn’t keep going much longer.  
  
There was always that scene in movies or books where the main character is pushed to their very limits and look like they are about to die if they have to take another step. The sidekick always asks if they are all right, if they will be able to go on and, true to form, the hero always says yes. Gives some great heroic speech about how they don’t have a choice as they either keep going or they are dead. Looked great on paper and sounded awesome when someone like Sakaguchi Taku said it, but it just doesn’t make the cut in real life.  
  
That was something else that was a huge lie. Maybe Aoi was just out of practice with running for his life but there was no way this side of sanity that he could keep this up for long.  
  
Plus the way he looked at it, it was probably smarter to find somewhere to hole up for awhile. They never did that in movies. They ran and ran and ran until they eventually tuned and made a gallant stand. Not that Aoi was choosing the wimpy way out, but even his idealistic mind told him that it would be easier to off himself right then and there rather than go up against someone with a gun.  
  
Up ahead he saw a service exit off the main stretch of road. Ironically the sign on the door read ‘Trash’ and as much as Aoi hated to admit it, it seemed like the perfect place.  
  
Slowing his running down, he still gripped his wounded arm as he looked around himself. He tried not to draw too much attention to himself even though the car park seemed deserted. Aoi approached the door wearily, all the while looking over his shoulder like he had something to hide; which, in all honesty, he did.  
  
The smell that greeted him suggested that maybe someone else running from a gunman had up and dead in some dark corner. Gagging, he buried his nose and mouth into the collar of his jacket and signed his own death warrant by swinging the door closed behind him. With the cool bite of the fresh night air cut off, the room seemed to grow even smaller and darker and Aoi wished he’d thought this through better.  
  
Too late now, he told himself as he looked around. There were two options available to him. Skulk in the corner that smelt like death and that could be easily seen from the doorway, or one far worse.  
  
It didn’t really take too much to work out what one to go for. If he was going to hide he may as well do it right. With a groan and a considerable amount of effort, he hoisted himself up and over the side of the furthest dumpster. His feet skidded on something slippery and no doubt wet and all too suddenly for his liking he ended up on his ass in a pile of filth.  
  
Perfect.  
  
Finally having the chance to inspect his injury, to see a bullet wound real and up close, Aoi uncurled his fingers. He squinted down at it, half of him not wanting to look while the other half was morbidly fascinated.  
  
Blood oozed out through his shirt but he knew that that wasn’t the only reason that his skin was all red. He could still feel that burning sting pulsating through his arm and it was enough to make his head go light just at the thought of it.  
  
The wound itself was small which he was overwhelmingly grateful for. It looked like it had just grazed him, nicked his skin and taken a small flap with it. The cut looked pretty clean, not that that really mattered considering where he was sitting, and his rational side told him that he wasn’t going to bleed to death from it. Would hurt like a bitch, but he’d live.  
  
Clutching his arm Aoi tried to ignore the feeling of blood seeping through his fingers. It hurt like all hell but he was alive. He was sitting in a dumpster, choking on a stench that would probably follow him for days and bleeding all over people’s unwanted trash, but at least he was alive.  
  
Apparently that was all that really mattered.  


*****

**Chapter Six preview:**

  
  
“What?” Ruki called out while squirming himself into a better sitting position. He sunk down into the seat and curled his back. With his hands uselessly chained behind his back, his feet were the only thing he really had going for him and he was determined not have them stuck under some shitty leather covered cop chair. “No fuckin’ seat belt? That’s illegal ya know!”  


*****


	8. Chapter Six - The blurred lines between Beginning and End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oppsies! Honestly, if I don't have things on my 'To-Do List' then they never get done, and somehow I managed to delete the recurring weekly reminder for this. So here, have like... three chapters in a row!

*****

Chapter Six

*****

Ruki felt like a fucking little demon. It was a feeling that sat well with him and as people’s eyes seemed to lock onto him as if he had some mysterious eye gravitational orbit of his own, he couldn’t help but smirk.

Drawing in a lungful of smoke, he rocked back and forth on his heels as he listened to the steady throbbing of the music coming from the club behind him. It was a night busy as all hell which did wonders to keep his mind off his own worries. The rain helped bring in the crowd which was a weird thing. Normally such whether deterred people from leaving their houses, but then again, Ruki reminded himself, this wasn’t just any old part of the city. The houses probably had fucking leaks which was why people took refuge in the sounder, solid buildings of business.

It was that or everyone loved the rain like Ruki. Brought out the weirdos after all.

He still hadn’t heard anything from Wataru or Yuusuke in regards to his little stalker issue which, considering he still felt as if he was being watched at all times, was not an overly pleasant notion. Ruki wanted the fucker exposed so he could deal with him on his own terms and they, he smiled to himself, wouldn’t be pretty.

The cut to his lip was stinging like buggery made worse by the fact that he obsessively chewed at it. Even he didn’t see the cursed logic in that but fucked if he could make himself stop. Maybe if he chewed the bloody thing clear off then it would all go away? Well, obviously it would, but Ruki wasn’t too sure about the prettiness of the consequences.

To accommodate for such an eyesore, he’d gone all out in the wardrobe department for the evening, much to Uruha’s delight. The other man was always chastising him for not being as out there as he could be so Ruki had sure shown him with this. White contacts, dark eyeliner with demonic vertical points and a studded leopard print jacket made him feel like some wild animal unleashed on the town. It was empowering, even to him, and he loved the way it set him apart from everyone else while keeping him as merely one of the crowd.

In the distance the sound of police sirens whirled against the night, cutting through the noise of the crowds like a shrill scream. Another night, another crime and most likely, another wasted body to be picking up come morning. Ruki didn’t give a goddamn shit about it just as long as none of them came near him everything would be fine.

Regarding his cigarette as if it had physically wronged him for getting so short, Ruki drew in the last few draughts hungrily and scuffed his feet against the pavement.

The sirens were getting closer and Ruki couldn’t help but feel that tremor of anticipation run down his back. It was always the same no matter what the situation. Sirens provoked that feeling in everyone who had something to hide and sometimes even within those that didn’t. It was an automatic response to the unknown and all that was feared within the slums of any city.

Stamping his cigarette out on the grime covered ground, Ruki decided to call it quits. If them cars came blasting down this street he didn’t want to be around to have to deal with it anyway.

With a groan, he pushed his way through the heavy doors of the back of the club and stumbled along the delivery dock in the dark. Fucking light had blown a few weeks ago and no one could be assed changing it, but still, Ruki felt he reserved the right to bitch about it anyway. It wasn’t easy avoiding stacks of bottles and boxes of fruit and whatever else they didn’t have somewhere to put. He’d lost count of the times he’d bashed his knee or almost brained himself on something that was hanging lower in the hallway than what it should have and that was saying a hell of a lot considering his short stature.

Finally reaching the door to the bar without having gained any more war wounds, Ruki pushed it open just in time to hear the heavy, dirty sounding music come to an abrupt halt. As if he were walking onto a stage the darkness was quickly dispelled as bright light flooded the whole room. People murmured and huddled together, some moving away from whoever they had been dancing with once the light revealed their actual faces.

Stepping into the club proper, Ruki was about to ask Uruha just what the fuck was going on when his eyes caught hold of a sight that explained it all.

In the doorway stood a handful of fucking cops looking all self important and imposing with their batons and shields and goddamned guns strapped to their sides.

Ruki gulped, feeling that sinking numbness in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t like he was psychic or anything and he wasn’t particularly guiltily of anything terribly recently but he just knew that they were there for him.

It was like in those movies where the hero cops walks in somewhere, proclaims his job and the unrelated crim pulls a gun and starts making a big scene. That was how Ruki felt only he had the smarts that apparently most movie perps didn’t and kept fucking quiet about it.

Not that it did him a hell of a lot of good. Especially once a tall figure pushed his way through the throngs of the police and somehow commanded everyone’s attention with just a flick of his hair.

“Ruki,” a tall blonde in an exceptionally well tailored suit called while looking straight at him. The entire club seemed to stop and Ruki was damn sure that everyone was looking at him too. Ruki shot him his best ‘I don’t know you so don’t fuck with me’ look but the suit didn’t seem to care. He just kept coming, holding up a nice shiny badge as if his outfit and bearing didn’t advertise what he did for a living to the whole wide fuckin’ world.

“You’re under arrest.”

Ruki looked at him like he had been slapped. “Wha?” he asked. His posture automatically transformed into one of defensive annoyance as his hip jutted out and his crossed his arms.

The blonde suit merely gave a flick of his head and the rest of the cops circled around Ruki, obeying like the good little dogs that they were. One man reached out for his arm but Ruki yanked it away and took a step in the other direction. Oddly enough he wasn’t stupid enough to go hitting a cop but that didn’t mean that he was going to go easily.

The group closed in on him like he was some great and powerful terrorist or something. It gave Ruki an unneeded little thrill at the idea of there being so many of them just to take him in, but then considering the hoops he’d made them jump through – quite literally – to get him the last time, he gathered that they were just finally starting to learn. Sucked big time when the morons got some smarts.

“I ain’t done nothin’,” Ruki said, his eyes locking onto the tall blonde. He found it odd that someone he’d never met was leading the charge, but then again, things in this city were always surprising. Normally it was always the one cop, the one poor guy in his little black and white outfit that did everything at the command of the same tall, dark haired guy in a suit.

Apparently not tonight though, as without another word, the blonde flicked his chin in a way that Ruki could only describe as snotty and the officers hurried forward again. Ruki almost missed his normal little beat cop. Fucked if he knew his name, but the guy was hardly past his second decade and had a fidgety way of doing things that set Ruki’s teeth to grate. Even so, that pimply little dude was a hell of a lot better than the ring of cops around him now and almost anything would be better than the patronizing blonde.

Plus, the blonde was tall; no, he was offensively tall.

Ruki fucking hated tall people.

“Fuckin’ shittin’ me!” Ruki muttered as the policemen grabbed both his arms and yanked them behind his back. He felt the rough hands twist his wrists around and up painfully before securing the cold metal restraints tightly, locking them together at an excruciating angle. Seemed that they had learnt how to properly cuff him too, a fact that also sucked. They’d started out keeping his hands in front which is piss easy to pick, and then when they’d finally moved onto cuffing them behind him, Ruki had pulled the old ‘slip’em ‘round ya legs’ trick which had got him and the cops back into the same situation of him being free and them being scared.

Struggling against the cuffs, Ruki found that they were far too tight and that strangely enough, they felt as if they tightened with every movement that he made. Hissing in pain, he shot a death glare at the prick who had cuffed him and made a small growling noise in the back of his throat.

“You will find that to be fruitless, Ruki,” one of the uniforms said annoyingly calmly. Ruki wondered if it was a prerequisite to get into the police to have your face impassive cause none of them made so much as a shared expression between them. Fucking mindless drones with impeccable grammar. That was even more annoying than tall people.

“It’s’ll that with ya people!” Ruki spat angrily while pulling at the restraints again in an attempt to get at the man that had spoken. He wanted to wipe that exasperatingly smug non-grin right off his face. Not to mention, who the fuck said ‘fruitless’ in this day and age? It just made Ruki even angrier.

Tall people, stupid words and correctly applied handcuffs were not a good sign. Not to mention that each one of those things had a way of getting right in under Ruki’s skin and rubbing like all hell. Ruki could feel his anger starting to well up, feel that need to yell and scream and make a scene getting all too strong. It was sheer determination that saw him returning to chewing like crazy on his split lip and as the cops started to prod him forward, Ruki tasted blood.

They marched him formally towards the door, one of the policemen with his arm linked around Ruki’s elbow to keep him in place and guide him. Ruki could feel the entire club breathe a sigh of relief once it was over. None of those fuckers were straight with the law as it was, so he knew shit all of them would be protesting his innocence. Uruha may worry but then again their entire friendship was based on ignoring things like this so the taller bartender would probably just shrug it off and move on.

Emerging from the doorway and being guided down the steps, Ruki saw a line of police cars parked along the curb and a single, sleek black car which the blonde in the suit automatically went to. Fucking figured that this would be a big thing. No one paid attention to the slap of rain hitting their clothes and hair and in some way, Ruki found that it made the scene all the more annoyingly real. Arrests in the fucking rain; who would have thought? The cops formed a circle around him, blocking any path of escape. Again it was like he was some wild animal that would be likely to tear them all down and since if given the chance Ruki would have done just that he thought it was overly smart of the bastards.

“Search him,” the blonde called over his shoulder before disappearing into the dark belly of the black car and once again Ruki found him cursing that snooty little shit.

“Ya fuckin’ got nothin’,” Ruki spat as they pushed him against the side of the car. Cold hands began frisking him, roaming over his body in search for any weapons and for the first time ever, Ruki was glad that he had left his gun in the club when he’d gone for his smoke. As the hands travelled lower and curved over his hips and buttocks, Ruki squirmed and kicked back at the man. “Ya gotta pay for that, prick,” he said by way of explanation. A sight howl of pain told him he’d at least caused some damaged and he found himself cursing the fact that he couldn’t see whether or not the suit’s expressionless face changed at all.

Once they were finished, Ruki was lead to the foremost police car under the supervision of the man who had first grabbed him. The officer at his side placed his hand on top of Ruki’s dreads and pushed down as he forced Ruki into the back seat. Ruki went without too much protest, offering the man only a quick snarl and a feral bitting motion as he was forced into the car. The door slammed shut with a decisive bang and Ruki was locked in there for good.

“What?” Ruki called out while squirming himself into a better sitting position. He sunk down into the seat and curled his back. With his hands uselessly chained behind him, his feet were the only thing he really had going for him and he was determined not have them stuck under some shitty leather covered cop chair. “No fuckin’ seat belt? That’s illegal ya know!”

Ruki did his best to ignore the fact that he was completely closed in. Trapped; caged like the wild animal they seemed to think he was. Never a good thing to feel; it just made his rebellious side all the more pronounced.

The front door opened and a regular black and white clad cop got into the drivers seat. Ruki made a quick decision and decided to give them what they obviously expected.

Grinning like a feral animal, Ruki raised his feet and starting bashing them against the cage that separated him from the fucking pigs operating the vehicle.

“Fuckin’ let m’out!” he yelled as his feet slammed against the metal wire. He varied his kicks, aiming for unpredictability and as much damn noise as he could make. Wiggling further into his seat, Ruki lifted his feet up higher so that he was kicking right behind the guys head. The policeman looked like he’d just seen the ghost of the monkey man as he sat there frozen and with his hands trembling against the wheel.

“Ya fuckin’ ‘ear me?” Ruki continued, milking the idiots fear for all it was worth. “Do ya? Let me outta’ere. Now! Arhgh!” Ruki let out a deep, disturbing scream that faded all too quickly into a vibrating growl as the passenger door opened and another body entered the car.

“Ignore him, he’ll get bored soon anyway. Good to see that you haven’t changed in the slightest, Ruki,” an all too familiar voice said from the passenger seat. Deep and somehow dark, Ruki could see the face that it went with all too well in his minds eye. He’d spent countless nights staring the same fucking suit in the face from across a shiny interrogation table and he didn’t much like the fact that he was looking at doing it again tonight.

Either way, the new presence in the car shut him up nicely, much to the relief of the driver. Ruki had the guts to give the cage one more kick before calming down somewhat and adjusting himself so that he was now almost lying across the entire backseat.

As the cars slowly started up and streamed out onto the road, Ruki’s shoulder slumped and the weight of his dreadlocks pressed against the window in defeat. “Ya gotta be FUCKIN kidding me,” he muttered. “This so ain’t my night.”

“It’s ‘isn’t’,” the voice from the front said and even Ruki found the hint of humour obvious in that oddly deep tones. “’This so isn’t my night’, though if you want to be completely grammatically correct, it should actually be ‘this really isn’t my night.’ ‘So’ is a conjunction indicating the reason for an action or a situation, or its result. ‘Really’, on the other hand, is used to emphasize the extent to which something is true.” Pausing for a moment, the man seemed to consider his own words as his head turned to the side thoughtfully. Dark, choppy hair spilled over his shoulder as he did so and Ruki cursed the fact that he had his hands restrained. He wanted nothing more to yank a healthy chunk of it clean out of the fucker’s skull and throw it back in the detective’s face.

“So yes,” the detective continued, “This really isn’t your night.”

“Fuck you, Atsushi,” Ruki muttered with one last kick to the cage. Even he had to admit that it was a pretty shitty effort and the cage hardly rattled but somehow it wasn’t as fun taunting the driver anymore. Not with Atsushi there to put him in his place and as Ruki had long since discovered, nothing rattled that guy. Believe it or not, Ruki had tried almost everything in the book and then some to get Atsushi to cave but got nothing in return. Just that same impassive expression and that unwavering, clear cut version of what was right and what was fuckin’ wrong.

And here Ruki was stuck in a fucking car with him and no doubt on his way to a thrilling night being locked in an interview room at the local station.

Just. Fucking. Perfect.

*****

When Aoi arrived at the abandoned apartment building, shivering and wet from the rain that had decided to cloak out the sun, he was more then thankful to find the place completely desolate. Miyavi’s jacket and that stupid beanie that he wore were both missing, a good sign that indicated that he had perhaps gone somewhere further away than just the shop as he was never one to concern himself with the cold.

Flicking the rain from his jacket, Aoi dropped it in a heap by the door and made his way into his room.

Acting quickly, he grabbed his duffle bag from the bedroom and shoved a few vital personal items into the canvas bag. Quickly searching through his wardrobe, he pulled out a pair of dark, pinstriped pants, a black top with a motif reading ‘Apocalypse’ across the top and switched clothes. He shoved a belt on and shrugged into a warm, open button black shirt since his best jacket had a fucking bullet hole through it.

He would have loved to clean up his wound but something told him he didn’t have the time. The shooter wasn’t likely to just call it quits cause Aoi got away the first time and while he hadn’t seen the man the entire night he’d hidden the in garbage dump, he wasn’t stupid enough to think that a hired killer wouldn’t be able to work out where he lived.

Next he raided anything that he could use for money. He still had the first thirty thousand from the job which he’d tucked into the bottom of his bag, but having no clue what faced him, he wanted to be prepared. He sure as hell wasn’t fucking stupid enough to try and go back for the money he’d so abruptly run the fuck away from.

Anything valuable and small enough to be fenced without causing suspicion disappeared into the hungry mouth of the bag. A camera, an old phone, a few CDs and most of his jewellery. That was one good thing; Aoi had always liked the finer things in life and was a bit of a label basher. Gucci sunglasses found their way into the bag as did a Dolce&Gabbana watch and Prada wallet however, his prized possession, a Vivienne Westwood ring went straight onto his finger. He’d have to be nigh on starving to death before he’d even think of getting rid of that and even then he wasn’t too sure if his life was that valuable.

Bag hoisted over his shoulder, he grabbed a pair of riding gloves that looked as if they were year old and pushed them into the pockets of the jacket.

Next came the computer room. Switching on both computers Aoi opened the drawer and fetched a handful of floppy-discs. Inserting one into each, he hit the ‘copy’ button before turning his attention back to the drawer. Grabbing anything that he had written, encoded, hacked or anything that he found interesting, Aoi wrapped them in some of his extra clothes and placed them into the bag.

The files of the first computer had been finished and after ejecting the floppy and putting that into the bag, he pulled out one of the discs that Miyavi had written. Placing it into the drive, he fired it up and let the virus do its work, wiping all the files and crashing the hard-drive beyond restoration.

It was a sad job, but one that needed to be done. Since he had fist come here, these had been faithful companions to him, helping him get the money that he needed to eventually get the fuck out. Taking them with him was not an option just as leaving them here for Miyavi was even less appealing.

So this was all that Aoi could do. Save anything of importance and then destroy his life’s work with a virus created by the man that he somewhat despised.

Ironic really. Especially since these very machines had placed him in the situation he currently found himself. He guessed it was like a double edged knife or an Indian giver or something. Give so much and yet take it all away in one swift motion.

Either way he really didn’t have time to think about it and instead turned to the last computer. Aoi pulled the disc out and inserted the virus just as he heard the front door open.

Just. Fucking. Perfect.

He’d hoped that he would be able to avoid seeing Miyavi altogether but considering the other’s aversion to the great outdoors, it was a fools dream. With everything that had happened and the pressing amount of his thoughts, he hardly felt like dealing with whatever the other man had to say.

Just like he had done the day before, Miyavi stopped in the doorway and just stared at his back. Aoi could feel it. The dark, scolding eyes of the other leaving their mark on his skin, burning away material and flesh alike.

The silence seemed to stretch on forever. As stubborn as it was Aoi refused to say anything. Technically he was a guest in Miyavi’s house now, so really he should have at least acknowledged the other’s presence but he just couldn’t find it in him to partake in such niceties.

Besides, Miyavi would either break pretty quickly or wander off and ignore Aoi. Both options suited him just fine though he really wished that Miyavi would make a decision sometime soon.

“What the fuck happened?” Aoi blinked. And there it was. Confrontation over silence and the end of Aoi’s happy little inner world. He should have known that Miyavi would go for this option. Again, it all came down to a power play, attack until Aoi caved but if that was what Miyavi was after, Aoi would give him a show neither would forget.

Finally turning he saw Miyavi holding up the blood stained, ripped jacket. He should have figured that Miyavi wouldn’t waste time and cut straight to the chase.

“Got shot at,” Aoi said with a shrug and a façade of calm. He wanted to scream at the other man; what the fuck did he think happened? Aoi got gnawed at by an old woman with false teeth? Somehow he managed to keep his cool even as Miyavi proceeded to flip the hell out.

“What do you mean ‘got shot at’?” His voice was almost a shriek and it struck an odd cord with Aoi. It was the first form of actual raw emotion that Miyavi had ever really shown. Figured that it would be now, when he was leaving, that Miyavi actually started to give a damn about him.

Aoi shrugged again as his second computer faded to black, all life gone from the files and the electric circuit no doubt completely fucked. “You know, got shot at. Guy with a gun decided to let some bullets fly in my direction.”

Miyavi just sort of blinked at him like Aoi had grown a second head that looked like a fish.

“My god!” Aoi’s frustration was starting to show. Standing up, he crossed his arms over his chest and just looked at Miyavi. “What do you want to hear? That you were right? That all this came about because of my stupidity and that I’m gonna fry for it? Is that it? Because I’m not saying that. I don’t buy that story and I don’t think anyone else will.”

“I didn’t-” Miyavi started but Aoi cut him off. He didn’t care what Miyavi did or didn’t think. It was irrelevant and somehow Aoi knew that all that did matter was what he now thought and what he was going to do about it.

It was like that decisive point in all movies where the good guy realises that only he can make the choices and that they will directly affect the outcome of the whole wide world. Aoi didn’t like looking at it like that, but there wasn’t any other way of putting it to himself that he would understand.

“Besides,” Aoi added, his eyes shifting to look at anything other than Miyavi. “They would have done it anyway. It had nothing to do with the fact that I tagged the place. It was a set up from the moment you touched the folder.”

“Don’t go putting this on me!”

“I’m not,” Aoi sighed. Again, he offered Miyavi a shrug before moving to pick up his bag. “I’m just saying that it was crooked from the get go, and whether you want to blame me for it all or not, you’d better get ready to run.”

Miyavi shot him a lopsided look as if he didn’t quite understand what Aoi was saying. “All I’m saying is that I didn’t survive because I’m Bond or anything,” Aoi said with a cheeky grin even if it was mixed with a hint of sadness. “And I sure as hell didn’t get the guy back. And,” he continued with a great sigh while hefting his bag onto his shoulder. His arm was starting to hurt like a bitch and what was even worse was that it was starting to get itchy. “If my assumptions are right then they want to erase anyone with knowledge about the case. Considering I didn’t even see the fuckers and you did all the deal work… well, you can draw your own conclusions cause I’m out of here.”

Aoi had half expected Miyavi to make a grab at him as he brushed passed but it never came. Maybe Miyavi had given up caring or maybe he was too busy thinking over his words or hell, maybe he was scared by this new side of Aoi that he was seeing. Aoi certainly was.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, sitting in that dumpster that oddly no longer seemed to stink, he’d realised that maybe this was what everything was about. He’d just spent the night before contemplating the stranger inside of him while stupidly linking it to superhero powers and office equipment. Aoi didn’t need a degree in philosophy to assume that maybe all this time he’d been hardening up for this fate. For this little twist and for that same blood, violence and gun ridden future he’d acknowledged while running for his life.

It made sense in an unsettling sort of way and for once Aoi didn’t question it or wonder what other cool stuff his subconscious self was trying to tell him.

“See ya, Miyavi,” Aoi said, surprised at the strength and conviction in his own words. This really was goodbye. He’d never see Miyavi again and if he ever did, it would be far too soon. Grabbing a pair of thick rimmed sunglasses, he pushed them up his nose and walked out into the street.

It was still raining which sucked big time although, he told himself, at least it worked a charm with getting rid of the stench of his night’s accommodation in the dumpster. Standing on the porch, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He’d been trying so hard to quit – pretty much managed to as well – but now it hardly seemed important. Funny how cancer didn’t seem so bad now that he had a mental freak with a gun after him.

It was that very thought that saw him finally moving. Maybe he was being overly cautious and just a little paranoid but he didn’t think standing in the open doorway to his last known place of residence was a terribly smart idea.

At least he was starting to get clued on to how this all worked. Ignore the movies; they lie and make situations too glossy and pretty. Follow your instincts, think things through but not enough to promote second guessing and then, after all that, just act like a lunatic and hope for the best. Seemed like the prefect recipe to get out of this place alive and god knew he was determined to do that. But for that to happen he had to get his shit together, probably strap up his arm and get some advice.

With Miyavi out of the picture there was only one person that he trusted enough to help him with all three. Shoving the cigarette between his lips, he took a deep drag and walked casually down the street, leaving a trail of smoke in his wake.

That was the one thing that seemed to be true about all those action movies. Once you got your ass shot it was a hell of a lot easier to walk down the street and pretend you owned the place.

Cigarette in hand and bag over the shoulder, that was exactly what Aoi did.

*****

**Chapter Seven preview:**

“You are here because I am in need of your help,” Atsushi said, all smiles and polite tones and Ruki felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Don’t make a habit’o helpin’ suits,” Ruki spat out, straight off the mark. No point in playing with the detective and giving him any false sense of achievement. “Bad for’m health.”

*****


	9. Chapter Seven - The Games we Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god! This chapter. THIS chapter! 
> 
> While I want to edit the hell out of it, this is still one of my favourite scenes I've ever written.

*****

Chapter Seven

The Games we Play

*****

Ruki leaned back in the seat and tilted his head to the side. His one free hand disappeared into his pants pocket and emerged with a pack of cigarettes and lighter while the fingers of his left hand curled around the chain of the extended cuffs.

Absently he tugged at the chain and hid the smirk that threatened to break through; apparently he was a danger to society and thus had to be restrained. Figured that they’d work it out now as opposed to every other time he was thrown kicking and screaming into this hellish little room.

He hated these sorts of rooms. Cold, bare and empty of all sound. It was the perfect example of how abstinence worked in the complete opposite way to Wataru’s small office. The ever threatening presence of Atsushi and the new cop probably worked to heighten that uncomfortable feeling but Ruki chose to ignore them for the time being.

Expression completely controlled, Ruki blew a steady stream of smoke from between his lips. It floated over the table, dancing in the harsh, artificial light until the little tendrils clouded in Atsushi’s face. The detective didn’t blink, not even as Ruki smirked and cast his eyes to the other side of the room.

“So, who’s ya new lil’ bud’?” Ruki asked. Not that he really gave a shit but he liked to know his enemies. “Or ya just babysittin’?”

“Kawauchi Toru,” the young blonde said. His face was somewhat screwed up, obviously not overly impressed with Ruki, the situation or maybe even both. Still, he offered Ruki a stiff bow which Ruki found all too amusing. “And I am older than I look.”

“Chatty, ain’t he,” Ruki laughed. Toru shuffled his feet as Ruki looked him up and down, making Ruki feel all the more powerful. “Fresh outta that big, fancy school,” Ruki mused. He took another drag of his cigarette and this time blew the smoke in the direction of the newcomer. Officer Kawauchi had the decency to look downright disgusted which pulled yet another smirk across Ruki’s lips. “Fucks sake Atsushi, why d’they give ya kids? How’d ya sposed t’get anythin’ done with ‘em ‘round sure as ‘ell beats the fuck outta me.”

For his part Atsushi just remained completely silent. It was unnerving – damnright creepy wrapped it up nicely – and Ruki started to wonder if the detective had just fallen asleep with his cursed eyes open. Silence settled back over the room as Atsushi merely stared at Ruki and ever so slowly Ruki felt it starting to get to him. It was impossible to remain cool and impassive under such intense scrutiny.

“Look,” Ruki finally caved. The seat creaked as he adjusted his weight and lent forward, his forearms folding against the table and keeping him upright. Chain clinked against the stainless steel desk as he moved, filling the room with a sound that made even his teeth grate. “Whada ya want?” The cigarette disappeared between his lips again as he took another drag. With a raised eyebrow, Ruki made a show of blowing the smoke off to the side giving the detective a break.

Atsushi’s eyes bore into Ruki’s and the smaller man couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. The officer had a way of looking at people that, Ruki was nigh on sure, could stop criminals in their tracks. That was why he was assigned to cases like Ruki’s. The problem kids, the repeat offenders and those with something to hide. Maybe the justice system thought that Atsushi could scare people into behaving while reforming the city one spooked crime at a time.

Not that Atsushi was an overly scary guy, and just to get things straight, even Ruki was convinced that he was the only straight, clean cop within the entire force. Had to be a hell of a lot of pressure on the guy, what with dealing with all sell-outs and spies everywhere he looked. Ruki liked to think that had he been a nicer person, he would have sympathised with Atsushi and his lot in life. Unfortunately for the cop, Ruki wasn’t any saint or anything and Ruki’s compassion extended no further than not blowing smoke into the man’s face. And that was only for the time being.

Still, it wasn’t like Atsushi was out to do him too many favours either and Ruki wouldn’t have wanted them anyway. It was never good owing your life and soul to a suit jacket.

Taking his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, Ruki stubbed it out on the shiny steel table and left the butt resting there. In a way he was hoping that Atsushi would say something but what he got really wasn’t the response that Ruki was after.

“You’ve got a list of priors stretching taller than you.”

“Cheap shot,” Ruki muttered over the top of the first few listed.

“…Theft which includes two cases of armed robbery, assault, possession of illegal substances with intent to distribute, arson, unlawful entry onto private premises, grand theft auto…”

Ruki sighed and fidgeted in his seat again. Shooting Atsushi’s partner an annoyed look Ruki once again reached to his cigarettes. The pack dragged across the table, making a slight screeching sound which Atsushi seemed determined to ignore.

“Enjoyin’ this?” Ruki asked the blond officer. The packet was flicked open and Ruki tapped one of the white sticks out, grabbing it between his index and middle finger. “’Cause it ain’t for m’benefit; I’a know the list. Reminds me o’ it e’ery fuckin’ time, he does.”

“…impersonating an officer of the law, fraud, and finally, five known counts of prostitution,” Atsushi finished as Ruki’s lighter flared into life. He had looked up just in time to see Ruki mouthing the list of offences off with him, smoke trailing out from his mouth as he went. “You think this is a joke?”

An obviously faked cough passed Ruki’s lips. He pounded on his chest with his fist in a sardonic mockery of choking before regarding Atsushi with his usual cold disrespect. “Joke? I’a didn’t think ya knew wha’ that was.” His words were met with yet another blank expression from the detective, making Ruki sigh. Apparently Atsushi wasn’t in the mood to kid around so Ruki switched tactics.

“Only joke I’a see’s this fuckin’ place.” Ruki’s head lulled back on his neck as he cast his eyes around the room. “I’a mean, whath ‘ell’s this? Good cop, bad cop, ‘cause that so ain’t gonna work.” The short man sent a mock-nervous glance over at Toru, “fuck bad cop. I’d’a ‘ave more worries ‘bout ‘im talkin’ and gigglin’ me brains out.”

Toru shifted under the gaze, a reaction that Ruki delighted in. It was good to see the prissy little blond squirm. Made him a whole world less annoying and took the snotty, holier-than-thou act clean off his face. Atsushi, however, hardly seemed amused which was really no surprise. He merely slid deeper into his seat, his back straightening and his lips pursing together ever so slightly.

“Are you quite done?” Atsushi finally asked. His voice held all the regal mannerisms of a disgruntled king. One of those good ones fairy tales always talk about. The type who tries to protect their little kingdom of magical morons from the big-bad ugly with mental as fuck hair who comes flying in on a broom, cackling all the way.

That thought alone made Ruki chuckle which meant that grinning smugly around his cigarette was a hell of a lot easier. He nodded and generally looked pleased with himself. “Yup. Completely. Thanks for askin’.”

Again Ruki felt Atsushi’s eyes burning into him and whatever remained of that smug grin quickly disappeared. Try as he might, Ruki sure as hell couldn’t keep still under that gaze and he ended up fidgeting in his seat while trying to look like he wasn’t. A feat, Ruki was sure, that was not at all fooling the cop. Then again, with Ruki everything was a power play and this little surrender would no doubt gain him a win in no time at all.

“Go on,” Atsushi said with a sigh just as Ruki couldn’t take that look any more, “ask your stereotypical question.” It was like a mutual agreement between the two of them. Round one was over, round two was about to begin and as masochistic as it was, Ruki was looking forward it to. He could almost picture the snooty blonde chocking a point up on the score bored; suit versus crim.

Ruki’s lips twitched forming something that was stuck between a grin and a pout. That was the shitty thing about playing with Atsushi. He normally always won and always knew what Ruki was thinking but that was where the challenge lay. “Why m’I ‘ere?”

There, it was said. The question was out in the open finally and Ruki could once again go back onto the defensive.

A feral grin spread over Atsushi’s face, one that made Ruki nervous as all hell and normally heralded the coming of yet another point for the suits. Shifting his legs, Ruki crossed the left over the right and tired to remain calm.

“You are here because I am in need of your help,” Atsushi said, all smiles and polite tones and Ruki felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Fuck me side’a’ways till I cry,” Ruki swore, half in disbelief and half due to god only knew what. “Don’t make a habit’o helpin’ suits,” Ruki quickly continued, straight off the mark. No point in playing with the detective and giving him any false sense of achievement. “Bad for’m health.”

Atsushi smiled again and Ruki met it with one of his own. Two could easily play at the grinning game.

“I have reason to suspect that you are acquainted with a certain computer hacker. Goes by the name of Yūrei.”

Ruki regarded the man as if he had grown a second head. Biting back the retort that first popped into mind regarding his refusal to help, Ruki instead just fluttered his eyelashes and allowed his smile to grow somewhat larger.

“Ne’er heard of ‘em.” Detective Sakurai gave him that look that said he wasn’t buying Ruki’s answer. That was one thing that sucked about being a crim when surrounded with police; they all automatically suspected you of lying even on the rare occasions when you weren’t. “Serious, ‘aven’ got a fuck who ya talkin’ ‘bout.”

Again Ruki was given that look and a vein in Atsushi’s temple started to twitch. The two of them sat there, staring each other down for what felt like ages and while Ruki wasn’t watching, he knew that the only movement that either made was Atsushi obsessively straightening the edges of his file and Ruki puffing on his cigarette. The imagined scorekeeper was no doubt confused as all hell with this one and Ruki couldn’t see either side getting any points.

“I think you will find it best to cooperate.” Ruki blinked at the strange voice and tore his eyes away from Atsushi. Toru was standing there in the exact same position as before with the exception of the smug grin being back on his pale little face. Fuckin’ little prick. Something about the other man irked Ruki and he felt his lip lift up in a snarl. Besides, no scorekeepers are meant to butt into the games; that wasn’t how things were done.

“Ain’t askin’ ya, Sparky,” Ruki muttered. If looks could kill the death glare he was shooting the snooty nosed little suit would have left the kid in pieces and in need of a bucket and sponge to be found.

Despite that, Ruki banished all thoughts of games and competitions out of his mind. This was no longer fun. Something was different today and he damn well wasn’t happy about it. In hind sight, he’d known from the moment he’d been arrested. Unless his latest John Smith had been grabbed somewhere, he hadn’t done anything to merit this sort of attention from his favourite detective; at least not in the last week. But with this new little designer suit along for the ride, the dynamics had changed and Ruki wasn’t much of a fan.

“Now look, ya ain’t got nothin’ on me.” The words were grunted out with an added hiss. His face screwed up as his voice grumbled in the back of his throat, deep and dark and wild to the point of sounding feral. “No’this time. Squeaky fuckin’ clean.” The bartender lifted his chained arm up and rattled it impatiently. “Either ya gotta charge me for m’previous offences’n see ‘ow that ‘olds with the court, or let m’go.”

“That’s not the way this works.” Hands once again moved to straighten the already perfectly straight files on the shiny desk as Atsushi remained calm. Ruki watched, his anger giving way to fascination as he wondered how the hell Atsushi managed to survive in such a disordered part of town.

“Officer Kawauchi,” the detective didn’t take his eyes off Ruki even as he called for his partner. “Can you please give us a moment?”

Ruki saw the disappointed look pass over the younger man’s face and gathered that the boy was enjoying the showdown. Even so, Officer Kawauchi bowed and muttered something affirmative under his breath before walking out. The door closed tightly behind him and Ruki noted his tall shadow disappearing into the light of the outside office.

Ruki blinked, not quite getting it. Not that he wasn’t thankful but surely Atsushi could see the scene the way Ruki did. With that toffee-nosed little brat in the room, Atsushi had the tactical advantage, and not just because of numbers. Something about the tall blonde put Ruki off; something snide and sinister and all secret like and Ruki wanted to nothing more than to scream at him and wipe that fucking look right off his face. It clouded Ruki’s judgement and made the level of mind games that he and Atsushi usually played completely unreachable.

Which was, all personal opinions aside, exactly why Ruki didn’t get it. Though, with the strange look on Atsushi’s face and the fact that they were now alone, Ruki was damn well sure he’d find out soon enough.

“Cut the crap, Ruki,” Atsushi finally said it all became perfectly clear. “You may fool him,” Atsushi continued with a flick of his head in the direction his partner had just gone, “and hell, you may fool all those thugs you make a habit of dealing with, but I know who and what you are.”

Ruki blinked at the words, trying to play innocent for a moment before giving up entirely. That was the other thing with Atsushi; he didn’t just win all of their little exchanges because he was smart. It was the things that he knew which always saw the points racking up on his side. Times like these forced Ruki to hate playing against him and managed to zap all the fun out of it.

Of course, though, Ruki still had one last, incredibly valuable card to play. One that meant that he would still win, no matter what Atsushi knew and threw at him.

“And just what are you going to do about that?” Ruki asked. Gone was the slurred accent, the incorrect grammar and as he offered Atsushi his best questioning look, Ruki somehow managed to hold himself with all the grace and bearing of a king. Not that fairy tale ones like Atsushi, but a real one; one who was used to ruling over people and making the hard decisions. A king who had led his people through famine and suffering, plague and war alike and was still there watching over the last of his dying kingdom even as the fateful blade of the guillotine fell.

His cocky attitude still remained even as his body somewhat relaxed. No longer looking like the highly stung criminal his demeanour changed everything about him; he was now draped in the shitty chair instead of perching on it like a needy drug addict. The handcuffs were nothing more than a decorative accessory, his hair and attire a costume and the cigarette between his fingers was treated like a lover.

“At the moment?” Atsushi asked. The papers in front of him were pushed out of the way and came to a stop at the edge of the desk. Somehow they were still remarkably straight. “Nothing.”

“Wait,” Ruki interrupted, holding up his lit cigarette in his right hand in a way that commanded silence. “The faultless, squeaky clean savour of the city is going to sit on such knowledge? Atsushi,” Ruki tisked with a disapproving shake of his head, “you are starting to slip, old man.” Leaning across the desk, he brought his face as close to Atsushi’s as he could without actually rising out of his seat. “Starting to feel the seductive pull of corruption tearing at your mind? Sucks to be dragged down so low and off your ridiculously high horse, doesn’t it?”

“You know all too well that you are the only exception to my rule.”

“It’s because I’m pretty, isn’t it…” Ruki teased with a smile and another flutter of his eyelashes. He drew in another deep drag from the cigarette and let the toxic cloud of smoke float up to the ceiling.

Atsushi seemed to just ignore him, his face still as impassive as ever. “It is because by keeping your little secret, more people stay alive. I don’t want to see a repeat of what happened two years ago.”

“Touché,” Ruki agreed.

“Now, about this Yūrei-”

Ruki cleared his throat as he relaxed back into his chair. “I have already said I don’t know him.” He huffed and looked off to the side, wondering why the hell he should give a shit about some third rate computer perp. It had nothing to do with him and considering that Atsushi knew all too well the types that Ruki ran with, it seemed fairly unnecessary to be going through all this again.

“You may find it somewhat interesting to know that your file reappeared a few days ago,” Atsushi said, knowing that if anything could get Ruki to shut up, that would be the perfect example.

True to form, Ruki froze, his eyes narrowing and his jaw stiffening slightly. Other than that there was no other physical change even though his mind started racing. He was already taking tally of what he needed to pack while his mouth seemed to function without the help of his brain. “You’re shitting me.”

“The SSD was broken into a number of days ago. The only thing that was touched was your file – your actual file, Matsumoto Takanori – resurrected from the depths of the computers memory and shoved right back there, for everyone to see.”

Ruki visibly paled at Atsushi’s words. This was bad. Really bad.

For a moment it was like his brain just stopped functioning. There was nothing there; no thought process, no panic and sure as hell no emotion regarding anything.

Then something in Ruki cracked; someone flicked the switch and everything came running in through the open door, pooling and swirling and making sickening sense. The feeling of being watched, the hired thugs that Yuusuke was investigating, the strange man loitering in the lobby of his shabby apartment block, it all made perfect, horrific, clarified sense.

He’d been found.

“The most curious thing is that the person left a calling card,” Atsushi continued. If he knew of Ruki’s thought process he made no show of it, though Ruki knew it was an act. He and Atsushi went back a long way, years and years and as much as Ruki liked to deny it and as much as he liked to try and play against the detective, the sad truth of the matter was that Atsushi would always know what Ruki was thinking. “A tag within the code of the system. Yūrei. That is it, just a name but one that is linked to a whole string of computer crimes.”

“And you think that I’m playing friendly with this fucker?” Ruki asked in disbelief. Maybe Atsushi really was getting old. The man had to be out of his mind if he thought that Ruki wanted his file to be out in the eye of any and all police. Atsushi was a shining example of what most police officers weren’t. Sad, but it was true. Anyone within the department could be shady or even just paid off to retrieve such information and with Ruki’s file sitting there in plain view for however long, there was a good chance that someone had already found it.

“No, not playing friendly. But other than the obvious, who would want to expose you?” Atsushi asked.

“Other than the obvious?” Ruki couldn’t help the bitter laughter that resounded in the back of this throat. “How about the whole goddamned city?” It was hardly what Atsushi wanted to hear and Ruki knew it, but it was the truth. “It’s a very, ‘let them eat cake’ sort of situation, Atsushi.”

“Think, Ruki,” Atsushi prompted.

“I really don’t know.” Ruki’s mind was drawing a blank and the frustration was clear in his voice. He was tying to remember everything that he could, all those nasty little things that he had pushed from his mind for so long. Anyone good with computers? Any contact within the family? Nothing. Shooting Atsushi a distressed look, Ruki just shook his head, “I really don’t know.”

A sigh came from the other end of the table and Ruki realised that Atsushi was finally starting to buy his words as truth. Good thing too cause Ruki didn’t know how many other ways he could say that he didn’t know anything without fully flipping his top.

“If you think of anything, or hear anything, you know where to contact me,” Atsushi said finally. He sounded defeated and tired all of a sudden, both emotions that Ruki had never seen in the man before. It didn’t take a genius for Ruki to come to the conclusion that Atsushi had a lot riding on what Ruki knew, or in this case, didn’t know. Odd as it was, he almost felt like he was letting the detective down.

“I won’t be here to tell it,” Ruki replied with a shrug. He didn’t know why he was telling Atsushi that, but at least he knew the police officer wouldn’t try to stop him. It may have been Atsushi’s job to prevent any normal criminal with Ruki’s history from leaving the district, but as Atsushi had said before, Ruki was a special case.

Again, Atsushi sighed and reached for his folder. He pulled a small white card out of the front section and slid it across the table to Ruki. “Just in case,” he said by way of explanation.

“You and I both know that I am not going to use that.” Atsushi’s business card was pushed straight back across the table.

Atsushi shrugged. It had been worth a try. “Watch your back.”

They were overused words but for whatever reason they seemed to be fitting at such a point in time. There was something in Ruki that made him almost want to say the same words back but he swallowed them quickly. Atsushi obviously wasn’t telling him everything but Ruki could see it in the other’s eyes. This was all about to get deadly serious and in this city, that was never a good thing. And fuck Atsushi and his need to try and do the right thing. Ruki wasn’t stupid enough to think that the detective would stand back and let it all play out and once he started getting involved… well, they both knew who the prime targets would be.

“You’ll be signing your own death warrant,” Ruki said. No, he didn’t owe Atsushi any favours, and no, Ruki wasn’t a saint, but fuck, he had to say something.

Atsushi didn’t seem to hear the words. He didn’t so much as shrug or blink before replying with, “You’re free to go.”

Plastering his trademark grin back on his face, Ruki stood causing the chain around his wrist to rattle as he moved. “That’s what I thought.” The words had two meanings and both knew it. Ruki lifted his arm up and offered the lock of the cuffs to the detective as his voice automatically slipped back into his gutter slurred accent. “So ow’bout ya be getttin’ rid of these ‘n’ I’ll’a be on m’way…”

*****

“Fuck!” Aoi swore as pain ripped through his arm. Wataru apologised but it was a half-hearted one that made Aoi think that maybe the little man was enjoying this. Aoi shot the PI a look that said just that before puffing away on his fourth cigarette for the day; he had a lot to make up for after all.

“Never thought I’d see the day where I’d be patching you up,” Wataru said as way of explanation. Aoi knew that that was about as close to a joke that he was going to get out of Wataru at this point in time so he had the decency to fake a laugh.

As fabricated as it was, the chuckled worked a charm at calming Wataru down.

When Aoi had rocked up all ready to be gushed over and taken care of he had unexpectedly found the roles severely reversed.

Aoi had known that something was up the moment he walked into the alleyway. Every time he visited there was always that feeling of being watched, of being weighed up and assessed like he was trying to smuggle live snakes through the airport. After awhile he had learnt that that was thanks to Yuusuke who had a pressing fancy for sitting on the roof with a weird hat, a shot gun and a bottle of rum and shooting at anyone who looked dodgy. Aoi didn’t even want to know how he had managed to survive that first walk down The Gauntlet without getting a hole in the head, though in a way it would have saved him from a lot of trouble now.

Anyway, standing at the mouth of that poky, dark little lane, things had felt different. It was like the buildings had a life of their own, feelings and thoughts and they were all damnwell dark and gloomy. The worst thing came when Aoi hesitantly walked the distance that locals called The Gauntlet and felt nothing but panic. Nothing.

To begin with he had assumed that it was his own paranoia. Getting shot at from above tends to give you a sense of the foreboding when there are plenty of hidey-holes located somewhere way above your head. But by the time he got to the door he just knew that something was wrong.

You see, Yuusuke was like Miyavi in the sense that his gaze left an impression. When you felt it, you never forgot it and fucked if Aoi knew how, but you could pick him out from a sea of people staring right at you. And walking down The Gauntlet with his bag over his shoulder and yet another cigarette in hand, Aoi felt nothing.

It took a whole five minutes to actually get Wataru to talk to him once Aoi finally got inside and when he did, the first thing he said was exactly what Aoi was dreading.

Yuusuke was missing.

There was no one sitting up on that old deckchair, drinking and smoking and poking fun at the general public. No one watching the place like an eagle in case some disgruntled client or angry mob boss came stomping down The Gauntlet. Nothing. Wataru was alone in his small hovel of an office and his best friend was missing and that was never a good thing in this town.

Obviously Wataru was in a flap. For a Private Investigator he sure as hell was drawing a blank on how to find his own man. Apparently he’d sent Yuusuke off on some recon job for one of their clients and that was it. As in, poof and Yuusuke was gone. Phone was dead, radio wasn’t working and there was no trace of him anywhere near where he was meant to be. Wataru was at his wits end and as far as Aoi could tell, Yuusuke had only been missing since last night.

So after awhile of trying to console Wataru and making completely unjustified promises that the other man would be ok and would rock up before they knew it, Aoi finally had to yell out that he’d been bloody shot and that his arm was about to fall off. That sure as hell got Wataru’s attention and had lead Aoi to where he was right now; getting a home stitch-up job while downing more whisky then was overly smart and chain-smoking like it was going out of fashion.

“What are you going to do?” Wataru asked.

Aoi grinned and took another sip of the whisky that Wataru had poured in a tumbler for him around the cigarette held possessively between his fingers. “Oddly, I have that worked out already.” He ginned when Wataru gave him that look which clearly stated that he wasn’t buying. “Well, sort of…”

Finally Wataru seemed content that Aoi’s arm would do and that he would live and moved back to sit stiffly behind his desk. Wataru demonstrated none of that cool, casual suave that seemed to go hand and hand with his job, only tension and worry and what appeared to be the inability to sit still. Again he just got that look from Wataru that dared him to offer up more information and Aoi knew that Wataru was expecting it to be somewhat stupid.

Sighing, Aoi spread his hands out in front of him and gave Wataru a defeated look. “Basically I need somewhere I can get a fake passport and get the hell out of this place.” Shrugging, Aoi added, “That’s pretty much my whole plan.”

Wataru nodded. He didn’t need to ask the severity of Aoi’s current situation nor what it was that he had done. Wataru didn’t want to know and Aoi sure as hell didn’t blame him. However, the way that Wataru glanced at him, all sidelong and untrusting told Aoi that maybe his general plan of ‘get the hell out of here’ wasn’t as well thought out as Wataru had been hoping.

“I know a kid who can help you,” Wataru said anyway. At least he wasn’t going to start pressing Aoi for further details or more consideration. Aoi knew that there was no way in hell that he could do better than his current ‘plan’ at the moment and telling Wataru that he was making it all up as he went probably wasn’t terribly smart either. “He don’t come cheap though and he has a nasty attitude to get around, but if you can pay up and deal then he is the best of the best.”

“I’ve got the money,” Aoi said with a nod. “As for the attitude,” he shrugged and gave Wataru a cheeky look, providing that he had one to boot. “Not like I have to marry the guy. I just need him to cook the papers.”

“Match made in heaven,” Wataru muttered. He returned to rummaging through his drawers until he pulled out a small blank card. Plucking the pen from his pocket he started scribbling down a name and address. “The name’s Ruki, and as I said, he’s a bit of a punk, but that’s what you get when you want something above the law.”

Aoi nodded. He’d expected nothing else, well, nothing short of a big guy called Bob in a wife beater. At least that was the way the movies always did it although he was starting to doubt their creditability more and more.

“Don’t take this there else he’ll probably kill ya.” Wataru handed the small card over to Aoi and the hacker automatically read the address. Shitty part of town, even shittier than where he was from. But then, he once again told himself, that was how these things went and while he may not be running off to meet Bob the wife beater, this Ruki could be anything from the same cut to worse.

“Memorize the address and password and destroy this in case he decides to give you the once over search.” Great, Aoi thought, some punk giving him a body search just to get a fake passport. He would almost rather take his chances with movie Bob.

“You sure this guy is good?” Aoi asked. He wasn’t entirely sure about all of this. The incident with the hitman was still somewhat freaking him out and he had the sinking feeling that the police probably weren’t far off. The run in at the shopping mall wouldn’t have gone unnoticed and there was bound to be someone who’d give the cops a description and then it was all a paper trail from there.

“As I said,” Wataru sighed. He hated repeating himself but in a way he couldn’t blame Aoi. The poor lad was so clean cut compared to most. Sure, he was a wanted cyber terrorist but Wataru was pretty sure that was one of the only things Aoi had ever done that was against the law. The kid practically lived in his computer or vicariously through movies and old TV reruns so he couldn’t blame him for being cautious. It would probably keep Aoi alive longer anyway. Or at least alive long enough to regret all his past indiscretions.

“You want to get out of the city fast? Well then, he is the best. He knows it too,” Wataru added dryly.

*****

Atsushi couldn’t find anyone. Not that there were that many people still on duty, but those who were seemed to have vanished into thin air. Oddly enough, it didn’t surprise him at all.

It was always the same whenever Ruki was hauled kicking and screaming into the station. The little man had a way of playing people without even trying and pushing all involved well past their limits. It was like Ruki had a sixth sense, an amazing ability to press peoples buttons and make even the most confident officers shrink under his gaze. With such an ability it was no wonder that most tended to clear out as soon as Ruki entered the front door and those game enough to stay and help Atsushi disappeared afterwards for the well rewarded cigarette that Ruki left them craving.

Atsushi himself was looking forward to that dose of nicotine, but not until he finished updating Ruki’s file and had another coffee.

“Sir,” Toru’s voice filled the room. Once again Atsushi hadn’t heard the man coming. Either he was naturally very quiet or Toru found some form of twisted pleasure in sneaking up on Atsushi.

“Yes.” His eyes didn’t lift from the file on the bartender he’d just interviewed. The file on Ruki was extensive, covering him from when he had been a teenage punk and runaway all the way up until his last arrest just a few weeks ago. Ruki had had a hand in almost everything and for a time he’d been known as one of the biggest peddlers of street drugs outside of the Yakuza.

All things were recorded, even this incident, even though Atsushi found himself having to tamper with the facts. Just a little bit. As it was he was the only person who knew of Ruki’s double life and of the kid’s birth name and he was beyond determined to keep it that way.

In the end the only information that he had added about that night’s particular case was that Ruki had been brought in for questioning regarding a possible link with the wanted felon Yūrei. He noted that their suspicions had proven incorrect and so Atsushi had released him and called off further investigation.

“We’ve just gotten reports of a shooting at a local shopping mall,” Toru said. A small folder was placed in front of Atsushi. It landed on the desk without a sound and was, much to Atsushi’s relief, perfectly straight to the edge of the table and the surrounding folders. “There was only one casualty but all reports say that they were an innocent bystander.”

Flicking open the front, the detective’s eyes skimmed over the content quickly, taking in the few small details that the police had already collected. One casualty, as Toru had said, but witnesses claimed that there was heavy gun fire and only one target.

“We have reason to believe that it is possibly gang related,” Toru concluded. He folded his arms behind him, nestling them at the small of his back while he rocked slightly back and forth on his toes.

Considering that Toru had been there as long as Atsushi he was sure that the younger man was on a caffeine kick. He entertained the idea of dismissing the officer but quickly decided against it. It would be a good introduction to what life in this city was like when you worked for the law; long, hard and painful. Plus, Toru didn’t look like he would go anyway and Atsushi appreciated the intelligent company. At least to an extent.

“Is anyone there yet?” Atsushi asked.

“We have the beat officer there who is collaborating with security to help keep all witnesses within the centre.”

“Good,” Atsushi nodded. “Take the file.” Gulping down the last of his coffee, he saved Ruki’s file and stood. Heaving a sigh, he grabbed his jacket, his badge and his gun. “Let’s go then.”

Toru nodded and tucked the file under his arm before opening the door for his boss. “I’ll drive.” Atsushi didn’t miss the smirk that spread across the other’s lip; all he did was roll his eyes in response.

*****

**Chapter Eight preview:**

The man spoke with an accent that Aoi had only heard hollered out from dingy alleyways and gutters. It didn’t help that the words came out in such a rush that it was impossible to differentiate one from the other let alone attach a fitting meaning to each. Maybe it wasn’t a language at all. Code talk or something. Or maybe this man had mastered the ability to communicate with animals through long sequences of clicks and hisses.

*****


	10. Chapter Eight - Crossed Wires, Short Fuses and Loaded Guns

*****

Chapter Eight

Crossed Wires, Short Fuses and Loaded Guns

*****

As the trees bent under the force of the wind and his hair whipped around his eyes, Ruki realized something. Something that had been brimming below the surface of his consciousness for sometime now. The answer had always been there, lying concealed under the surface and hidden within the depths of his eyes, but he had just never admitted it to himself.

He couldn’t run forever.

Ruki had always known that the past would eventually catch up to bite him rather viciously in the ass, but somehow he had never assumed that it would be so quick. He was always so fucking careful. So precise and meticulous with his actions and his cover story, that he had stupidly fooled himself into believing that he had all the time in the world to get out of Japan.

Apparently not, at least according to Atsushi.

Ruki cursed whatever fucker had hacked into his files. He had paid damn good money to get someone to remove those details in the first place and for what? Some hack to come and make his claim to fame using Ruki’s life as a betting card. It hardly seemed fair but then again, Ruki reminded himself, nothing in life was.

As he saw his building looming up ahead, Ruki couldn’t work out if he was thankful or even more nervous.

The building was quiet; dead quiet as it should have been. But it was now somehow eerie, still reeking with a haunting sense of emptiness and unbridled danger. Ruki had never looked at it in such a way before, never seen it for how it really was. Every time that he had come here in the past, he had welcomed the solitude, the empty halls and deserted foyer. He had liked the fact that there were floors of old apartments just lying there; unused, unoccupied and altogether forgotten. It had seemed comforting its own strange way, but not any more.

Now Ruki had the chills. Now he hated the way that his boots made loud clicking sounds as he walked across the street, the sounds having naught to rebound off save for the empty streets. The place was utterly silent, totally empty and for the first time it occurred to him that it was truly unsafe. Anything could happen to him within the crumbling rooms and no one would even notice; the sounds falling on nothing but the unhearing ears of the walls.

He knew that that was the thing that worried him, that made him bite his lip as he hurried his pace up the crumbling front steps, his eyes forever locked onto the light that swung precariously to and fro just inside the door. It was not the emptiness in itself – in fact he liked that – it was just the solitude. Even when there were more squatters than the building could hold, Ruki was completely alone.

But knowing that there was this whole other life and world within the foundations of the structure that hardly anyone knew about shattered any solace that he may have found in the silence and stillness.

Hands sinking deeper into the pockets of his leather jacket, Ruki stood on the step of the building, listening to the trees sway in the chilling wind. The cold air hitting the warmth of the right side of his jaw made it sting, further reminding him of his encounter with the street gang and the possible dangers within the building.

Finally working up the courage, he reached out for the door and yanked it open, glad when the rush of cold morning air was left behind him. Not that the stale stillness of the old apartment block was really much of a substitute but Ruki figured that thems were the breaks.

The foyer was empty, silent as the grave that it possibly could be. How many deaths had these walls witnessed in their time? How many people had died within this building, both from natural and unnatural causes? It was a hallowing feeling that chilled him to the very bone.

His mind searched back over the last couple of days, processing all the little details that he may have missed. All those times he had felt like he was being watched, the attack of the street gang which reminded him that he was yet to hear from Yuusuke. The other man wouldn’t just leave him hanging, not even if Yuu found nothing of interest and suddenly the world seemed a much colder place. Had something happened to the investigators?

The shitty truth of it was that he wouldn’t get a chance to find out. Which, quite frankly, sucked even more for the fact that most of Ruki’s savings were hidden away in the safe within Wataru’s office. While the money would be useful, he neither had the time nor the want to lead anyone following him to his only real friend. Provided that Wataru and Yuusuke were still alive after all.

It was just an entire mess; that was all Ruki could see it as. One huge fucking screw up and all thanks to some idiot who wasted his life staring at a computer screen. He’d already thought it wasn’t fair, but now it was starting to make him mad just thinking about it. There was something so far beyond unfair that there was no way he could be held accountable for his actions if he ever found the fucker who went and messed up his life.

Taking the steps two at a time, Ruki swore under his breath. He may not be able to run forever but he could damn well try!

*****

Atsushi’s long jacket flicked out behind him as he squatted and looked at the floor. They were at ground zero of the shooting; the place where the gunman had established himself.

It was a closed shop, boarded up and with a ‘For Lease’ sign hanging on the front. Somehow they had managed to get the door open and use the small round cut in the plywood – that had acted as a makeshift handle – in order to shoot through.

The door opened, flooding the otherwise darkened room with light and making Atsushi squint. From the quietened footsteps and reserved manner of the man, Atsushi could tell that it was Toru.

“Talk to me,” Atsushi said, getting in before Toru could start out with his customary salutations. Atsushi had sent his partner off to talk to some of the witnesses. It had quickly become apparent that Toru was good with people; no, he was great with them. He had that warm, open attitude that saw people opening up to him as if he wasn’t a cop at all. It was a rare skill to have and one that Atsushi was all too happy to use to the fullest.

Toru cleared his throat, choking back his usual ‘Sir’ and launched straight to the point. “I spoke to a number of witnesses,” he said. The sound of paper hitting against paper told Atsushi that Toru was referring to notes that he had not doubt taken. The detective couldn’t help but grin as he moved bent legged across the floor to investigate another location. Atsushi loved written notes; Toru sure was a fast learner.

“From what they can tell it was a single shooter with a defined target. There are bullets embedded in a safety locker which was open-”

“Content?” Atsushi asked.

“Nothing,” Toru said. “Security said that no one touched the place after the incident and no one seems to remember the target leaving with anything.”

“And the target?” Dark eyes narrowed as Atsushi reached down to pick up a bullet casing. He held it up close to his face, the latex gloves covering his hands allowing him to grip it tight between two fingertips. He highly doubted that there would be any fingerprints on the casing but it was best to stay on the safe side.

“I’ll get a sketch artist on it right away, sir,” Toru offered with a bow. Atsushi nodded as he continued to examine one of the bullets he’d picked up.

“What do you make of this?” It was half a test though Atsushi also wanted a second opinion.

Watching Toru examine the bullet was fascinating. It was as if Atsushi could see the young officer’s mind working, ticking over all possibilities and searching for the information that he needed.

“.45mm,” Toru said after inspecting the bottom stamp. “From the firing grooves and the darkness around the head, I’d guess that it was from a rifle more so than a pistol.”

“And then this one?” Atsushi passed up another bullet shell, this one smaller and lighter even though it was empty.

“.44mm revolver. Smith and Wesson 29, maybe.” Toru looked at it closer and shrugged. “Gun’s aren’t my forte,” he admitted, “But I have seen the damage of one of those before. Powerful machines.”

“That’s all right,” Atsushi said, “You did well; they’re my guesses.” Casting his eyes back around the room, he quickly counted the shells in his head. He rubbed at his nose with the back of his wrist, careful to keep the gloves away from his face. The room held the heavy smell of gunfire still which was no surprise considering the amount of casings scattered across the floor. “We only have two of the .44mm out of all these here. Only two and the rest are from the .45.

“My guess is that the first two shots fired were from the .44mm and will be the slugs embedded in the door of the open locker.” He hadn’t been down to the floor to investigate yet but from what he could see here it was pretty obvious that the shooter had been aiming for someone approaching the wall of lockers. “Obviously they missed so the shooter moved onto the faster, heavier rifle. Longer range and rapid fire would have been needed if the target was on the run.”

“Professional hit?” Toru asked with a squint while placing the bullets into separate zip bags.

Atsushi nodded to the question, again pleasantly surprised about the other man’s way of thinking. The sad truth was that not many of the cops on his squad would have come to that conclusion by themselves. Then again, if they did they probably would have kept it quiet or had already known far too much about the case to be considered legal. “That’s what I’m thinking.”

“So it’s not gang related.”

A devious smile crept across Atsushi’s face. Granted that the kid was good, he still had a lot to learn. “Don’t be so sure.”

“Why?” The question was asked with genuine interest and not a hint of attitude at being so revoked.

“There’s the catch…” Atsushi said. Lifting his head, he looked at Toru and gave the other a questioning look.

A deep frown passed across Toru’s face. Again, the way the man was thinking was displayed clearly on his features as he considered each option. Finally he shrugged, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I get the question but I’ve got no answer. Why would anyone get in outsiders to do their dirty work?”

Atsushi nodded. He hadn’t expected Toru to get that right and in a way it was refreshing to be shown that the rookie still had a lot to learn. “See, that is the interesting thing. Maybe someone wants to keep their hands clean.” A look of confusion worked its way onto Toru’s face, prompting Atsushi to elaborate on his theory.

“About two years back there was a serious case involving the yakuza. A gang member slaughtered the oyabun’s entire family and stepped up to fame. It rocked the city and drew a lot of attention, both from the police and from other clans.”

“You think this is the same sort of thing?”

“Maybe. Think about it; a public locker, a well placed shooter and one target. It has ‘pay off’ written all over it. And what’s the biggest thing to go down lately?”

“The hacker.”

“Exactly. I’m going out on a limb by saying that maybe this was the drop point, but instead of walking off with a shitload of cash, our computer crim got shot at instead. A professional hired by whoever wanted the SSD-base breeched but wanted no connections to the crime.”

Atsushi watched as Toru looked around the room, taking everything in and if Atsushi’s thoughts were correct, Toru was probably storing the scene in that photographic memory. “It all makes perfect sense; in a scary way. But why leave the casings?” he finally asked, again hitting the nail clear on the head, so to speak.

“That is the question,” Atsushi agreed. Crab walking across the floor, he came to a stop next to a deep smudge in the dust and lent his hands on his knees. “Look here. Footprints that the shooter was careful enough to smudge out. Odd when you look at it. They went through all that effort even though the target got away and yet they didn’t collect the casings…” Toru moved to stand behind him, leaning in to get a better look at what Atsushi was referring to.

“I’d say that they wanted us to know what was going on,” Atsushi concluded. “Someone is playing us for the fool. This was a professional hit and moreover, it was meant to be public. The target didn’t escape; they were allowed to get away. And on the unlikely chance that they did slip by the shooter, my guess is that it wasn’t a set back.”

Toru nodded, his face growing oddly pale at Atsushi’s words. “So the shooter is after something else as well?”

Atsushi merely nodded before turning his attention back to the room. There wasn’t much else that he could see of immediate interest; the scene was already starting to go cold. Rising to his feet, he worked the stiffness out of his knees before pulling the gloves off. “Get the Scene crew in here to process this. What we need to do is check out any security footage.”

“I’ve already got the security office working on collecting everything they’ve got,” Toru said with his trademark confident grin.

*****

It was a movie set. Aoi was almost sure of it. Had it not been for the persistent pain in his arm, he would have sworn he had stumbled into a land of TV and films. The crumbling building made the one he had shared with Miyavi look like a palace. Just walking up the stairs had Aoi clinging to the railing as if his life depended on it; if the stairs decided to be as fragile as they looked then it surely would.

The light at the entrance to the first floor was flicking, giving the peeling plaster and water streaked walls a dark, creepy feeling. Aoi imagined blood and bullet holes, screams and ghosts and immediately regretted it when he came to the first floor and had to turn the corner back into the dark stairwell. It was purely sinister looking and Aoi didn’t much fancy meeting the type of person who would willingly live here.

And he still had another four creepy-as-fuck floors to ascend.

With each step his mind got further and further away from him, running wild with stupid ideas until he was peering over his shoulder more then he was looking ahead. Floor boards creaked, the flickering of the light made an audible noise and Aoi’s breathing became heavier and heavier. A man with an axe, a dead child and a chainsaw and Aoi was braking out into a sweat.

It felt like an eternity had passed by the time Aoi made it to the fifth floor. His heart was racing and it had nothing to do with the amount of stairs. Moving cautiously down the hallway he tried to calm his overactive mind and get his head back in the present, especially once he came upon the correctly numbered apartment.

The sign on the door made him laugh despite himself. “Imports, Exports.” Right. That was creative and actually was a scene out of some bad old move. For a moment he entertained the idea of this Ruki character being someone really strange. Screw Bob the wife beater; he was too stereotypical. Maybe Ruki was a gangly biker with a face made for radio.

Now that the thought had popped into his head, Aoi was so far beyond uneasy that it wasn’t funny. He could be walking into the home of a serial crusher, a guy who weighed four hundred and fifty pounds and had a fascination for chick-flicks while forcing his guests to massage his feet.

Aoi shivered and crossed his fingers, praying to meet Bob the wife beater while he looked at the door. It was almost offensive the way that it remained closed and Aoi swore that it was staring right back at him. They said that the walls had ears; well this place felt like it was watching him and Aoi accredited it to the door. Honestly, he didn’t know what was so intimidating about the damn thing. It was just a door, made up of wood, hinges, a panel of frosted glass and fourteen small, black letters and one comma.

Just a door and Aoi knew he was being an idiot. He tried to look at it in a whole new light. It was either meet whoever the hell was on the other side of the door or get a bullet to his brain and that thought process worked a charm. Call him stupid, but he’d much rather take his chances with a stinky-footed huge guy than the maniac with the habit of shooting at him.

Curling his fist, Aoi finally went to knock on the door only to have it swing slowly open under the light pressure. Aoi almost jumped back in surprise, half expecting to see someone looking at him around the door with a gun pointed at his head. No one was there; nothing moved in the room at all.

“Ummm,” Aoi called, out, “Hello?” He felt like an idiot standing at the door and calling into the darkened apartment but it sure beat the hell out of walking in there and into the midst of god only knew what. The last thing he wanted to do was piss off the crying serial crusher or interrupt Bob doing… well, whatever the hell Bob did. Besides, something told him that it probably wasn’t a smart idea to just go walking into the apartment. That seemed like something an idiot would do in movie while the rest of the world sat on the couch and yelled that it was a bad idea. “Anyone home?”

“Hello?” he called again, this time a little louder. Aoi poked his head around the door, expecting it to get blown off at any moment and due to that, found it even harder to see with his eyes squinted half closed in anticipation. That inner voice of his told him to get a fucking grip and stop being an idiot and so he opened his eyes and tried to calm the beating of his heart.

“Go jump,” a voice called back. It was followed by a string of noises, all of which sounded overly strange as they echoed out into the hall. Aoi frowned and flinched back from the doorway, his brave inner voice telling him to turn tail and fucking run. Wataru had warned him of Ruki’s apparent attitude, but Aoi hadn’t been expecting something like that. He gathered feisty, bitchy and maybe even a little sarcastic while his imagination had paired that with a huge guy who was in touch with his feminine side. But not outright rude and insulting.

Plus, whoever the hell was in there sounded angry and not at all close to crying over a sad romantic drama.

“Hello? Ruki?” Aoi called into the space behind the slightly ajar door. “Wataru sent me… hello?”

Then he heard a loud bang followed by an interesting string of curses that he stood no chance in hell of understanding. “Are you alright?” Aoi called when the room was once again plunged into silence. The stillness of the once busy room made him nervous and against his better judgement, Aoi found his head poking around the corner once again and his eyes straining to see.

The room was too dark, too long and too deep for him to be able to make anything out. With a shrug he realised that he really had no other choice than to play the fool. Like some high school idiot who ran away from a killer by going up the stairs instead of out the front door, Aoi pushed the door inwards and stepped into the darkness. He fought the want to go straight into the shadows and instead remained backlit and visible. The perfect target for anyone with a gun but hopefully his openness would work to soften any dangerous thoughts this Ruki might have.

The first thing that he noticed – other than the darkness– was the sound of running water. It helped him get his bearings by working out the placement of the bathroom in comparison to everything else. The room he was in looked something like a living room but it had been transformed into a bit of an office. There were two chairs against the wall near the door that faced a large desk with a computer and a TV screen. Off to the left were two doors, one that sounded like the bathroom and the other that, if Aoi guessed correctly, probably lead into the living quarters beyond. That second door didn’t match the rest and Aoi vaguely wondered what had happened to the original for it to need to be replaced and then quickly tried to think of anything else. Puppies and sunshine seemed a good line of thought for the time being and were at least a hell of a lot better then guns and bullets and some huge as fuck shootout.

Another bang saw the bathroom door flying open, Aoi recoiling like a snapped rubber band and a small man come charging out as if the place was on fire.

Aoi blinked and tried to play cool as he straightened himself up and willed his hands to stop shaking. Bangs and rattling noises were quickly starting to become his most hated noise in the world. Why was it that everything sounded like gunfire?

Brushing his paranoia to the side and labelling it irrational, Aoi instead locked his gaze on the little man that had come rushing out just after the bang.

When Aoi had entertained all possibilities for this mysterious counterfeit artist’s appearance, this really hadn’t been one of them. The man was, in a word and Aoi wasn’t trying to be degrading when he thought it, tiny. Everything about him just seemed so small. No, petite. The top of his head barely reached Aoi’s nose and something about the little man made Aoi think of a Chibi little doll.

Wet dreadlocks clung to the little man’s face though he tore passed so quickly that that was all Aoi saw. Now either the man was ignoring him or Aoi had gained powers of invisibility, which, in a way would be cool. It would sure solve a lot of his problems. Sadly though, Aoi’s faith in his ability to develop superpowers was dwindling by the hour and with that in mind, he was more likely to believe that the man was incredibly good at dismissing people without even a look.

“Umm, hello?” Aoi called. He was pretty happy with the amount of sarcasm he managed to keep out of his voice considering all the effort he put into not jumping around while flailing his arms for attention. Whether it was a complex from his childhood or something deep rooted in him like his need to have his nom de plume in lights, Aoi found it unbearable to be ignored. Especially when he actually wanted to be noticed.

“Fuck off,” the little man spat in response and Aoi’s jaw just dropped. The tension and anger was obvious in his voice. Picking his jaw up from what felt like the floor, Aoi settled for a less obvious frown. That was hardly the greeting he had been expecting. He expected calm, calculated and a gun under the desk as one possibility. Not some crazy short man running around while muttering to himself.

“Are you Ruki?” he asked as the petite man brushed passed him. He may have been vertically challenged but he whopped an epic sized shove as his shoulder collided with Aoi’s arm.

“Take ya ass’n ge’the ‘ell outta ‘ere. Ya in m’way.”

“Come again?” Aoi asked. The man spoke with an accent that Aoi had only heard hollered out from dingy alleyways and gutters. It didn’t help that the words came out in such a rush that it was impossible to differentiate one from the other let alone attach a fitting meaning to each. Maybe it wasn’t a language at all. Code talk or something. Or maybe this man had mastered the ability to communicate with animals through long sequences of clicks and hisses.

The sudden scream of a word he fully understood jumped Aoi out of his thoughts and his mind landed painfully back into the present. “Out!” Well, at least Aoi could understand so that was a start even if it wasn’t the sort of start that he wanted.

“I just-”

“Told ya ‘out’!” The man’s little arm flicked out with a vicious jab, his index finger pointing to the door even though he never once turned.

Aoi’s mouth opened and closed a few times. He was doing a damn good impersonation of the fish that he had become since he had so stupidly nibbed at the bait the day before. None of this was going according to plan and it was leaving Aoi somewhat flabbergasted. All in all, Aoi was good at dealing with people’s attitudes, but this guy was proving to be a challenge.

“If I could just have a-” minute of your time, Aoi tried to say but was abruptly cut off yet again.

“No.”

“No?” The man was frantically pulling items out of a drawer and Aoi had the memory of doing the same thing just a few hours ago. It struck him that perhaps the short guy was trying to find something or maybe he was packing to go somewhere. As selfish as it sounded Aoi hoped that it was the first option of the two ‘cause he needed a passport and didn’t want to wait for some smart-assed kid to have a holiday first.

“Yeah, no.” The man turned on his heels and shoved Aoi out of the way again, his shoulder connecting somewhere against Aoi’s mid arm and just below the bullet graze. Aoi hissed in pain and instantly clutched at the tender flesh, feeling it burn with as much vigour as when the bullet had actually hit. The feeling of tearing flesh made Aoi’s stomach churn and instantly he knew that he had ripped out at least one of Wataru’s neat stitches. That was just fucking perfect. He came here for a passport to save his life and yet instead he was getting abused and injured by some crazy short punk.

Watching Ruki tear around the room, Aoi quickly felt the situation getting the better of him, shouted out, “Snugglepot,” and instantly felt like an idiot.

He was sure that that was the plan; some twisted game that Ruki and Wataru liked to giggle about after each moron came knocking. Who in the world other than these two used ‘snugglepot’ as a password sure as hell beat Aoi but now that it was said and his face was bright red, there was really wasn’t anything that he could do to rectify the situation. ‘Open Sesame’ would have been much cooler.

Trying his best to act calm and normal was a little hard, especially once the man turned his attention to Aoi for the very first time. Ruki had the strangest eyes Aoi had ever seen, and he’d seen quite a few in his time. Strange ones, that was. Miyavi had commanding eyes, dark and demanding while Yuusuke’s left you feeling physically assaulted if he glared at you.

But Ruki’s? They were a thing of their own. Dark and deep, they seemed to hold the wisdom of the world in the tiny, glowing orbs. And they did glow, whether it was with anger or surprise or maybe even a hidden drop of mirth at Aoi’s stupid proclamation, they seemed like little lights in the darkness of the room and the shy part of Aoi felt like cowering away. Hiding from those eyes and the light that they cast.

It was like Ruki already knew everything about him; like he could read Aoi’s soul and see beyond the surface and to the things that even Aoi didn’t know about.

Aoi resisted the urge to shiver. While it was mystifying, it was utterly unnerving and almost completely unnatural. Not to mention fucking creepy.

“Ruki?” He asked again. He tried to remain calm even as the shorter man just continued to look at him with those haunting eyes. Aoi felt the need to fidget and satisfied it by hooking his heavy fringe with his little finger and brushing it out of his eyes. It fell straight back into place afterwards but the slight movement did its job in keeping Aoi from turning his back and making a b-line for the door.

As if the sound of his voice – or maybe even the name – woke Ruki from his attempt to burn Aoi down with just a gaze, the smaller man shook his head and turned away. “No,” he said simply.

“You’re not Ruki?” Aoi was just plain confused now. If this wasn’t Ruki, who the hell was it? A strange sense of relief washed over him at the thought of this not being the man he was after even though he regretted it almost instantly. It was just something about the shorter man’s eyes… Aoi was sure that it would be a lot easier dealing with someone who didn’t have the ability to freeze fire and heat water with just a glance.

“Nah, I’m Ruki,” the other said and Aoi felt his hopes shatter like a glass dropped from a rooftop bar. The short man disappeared completely from view as he turned a corner and went through a door. From the way his voice echoed, that odd slang almost making Aoi flinch, Aoi gathered that Ruki was again in the bathroom. “But’t’s still no.”

“What?” Aoi called back. Hesitantly he made his way through the main room towards the door. He was about to turn into the room as well when an angry looking face poked itself around the comer. The dreadlocks were now up in a high ponytail and Aoi noticed a heavy blonde streaked fringe falling in the little man’s eyes. It acted like a shield, blocking out some of the intensity of those damn eyes and Aoi was instantly relieved for its existence.

“I ain’t doin’ ya fuckin’ pas’po’t.”

Aoi blinked, wondering if the man spoke any dialect that Aoi could understand or if he’d have to revert to sign language. Maybe if he could find a pen and some paper they could write all this down; that was if the other man was even able to read and write. Nothing said that he had to be properly educated to forge passports. It was a simple matter of copy and paste anyway, or at least that was what Aoi assumed.

Aoi found his mouth opening again though his brain hadn’t decided what to say. He was saved the embarrassment of tripping over his words as the man once again yelled, “Out,” at him and then the head once again disappeared into the room.

The door slammed in Aoi’s face with a bang that was nothing like a gunshot.

Aoi actually choked on his breath as the sound reverberated around the room. He blinked once or twice, partly due to the loud noise and partly because he wanted to make sure that he hadn’t just imagined all that and that the door was actually closed.

Yes, yes it was.

Unexpectedly that third presence in him started to bubble with anger. There was nothing that he wanted more than to slam into the door, knock it open and shake that little brat until he listened to him. To press Ruki up against a wall and force him to keep quiet while Aoi ranted and raved until Ruki agreed to make the damn passport. An after the day he’d had, Aoi was more than ready for a good ranting bitch session. He’d talk the other man’s ears off if that was what it took and even then, once the appendages were lying on the floor, Aoi would keep going just for good measure.

However something stopped him. Whether it was his normal rational self, the strange sense of fear he felt at his own violent streak or the self-persevering Yūrei he opted not to go causing such a scene. It would no doubt either get him killed or scare the vertically challenged man out of his wits. Considering the likelihood of such wits already being completely gone, Aoi gathered it was better to keep the man somewhat rational else all chances of getting what he needed would be well and truly forfeit.

Seeing no better option, Aoi moved over to the stranger’s desk and perched on the edge, his feet crossed against the floor and his arms folded impatiently. If the little man wanted to play it that way then Aoi would too and he’d be damn-well here when Ruki decided to resurface. Aoi was well equipped to fight stubborn childishness with stubborn childishness.

Aoi stood there, leaning against the desk and fighting the urge to go snooping around for about ten minutes before the door to the bathroom reopened.

Ruki came out fully changed and any hope Aoi had had regarding Ruki not being about to leave was stripped away from him quite unceremoniously. Dressed in dark pants and a waistcoat, the smaller man quickly covered himself up with a longer white jacket and slung a long scarf around his neck. Next came a pair of black gloves and some oversized sunglasses. Aoi wondered if the little man knew that it was actually night out there or not.

The entire time that it took to put the jacket on, Aoi watched the man as Ruki watched him. It was like a stand off in a western movie, with the two cowboys having the quiet showdown with nothing but glances and subtle movements. Unfortunately there was no tumbleweeds to blow across the scene even though Aoi would have happily settled for a ball of paper.

“Hi again,” Aoi finally said, cheerily and just trying to be annoying.

Ruki quietly muttered something that Aoi didn’t catch and from the way the man talked Aoi easily guessed that he wouldn’t have been able to understand it even if he did hear it. The look in the short man’s eyes was enough and just like Aoi was sure that Ruki could read people like a book, those unnatural eyes were open and exposed for just a moment. It was long enough for Aoi to get the message, loud and clear.

What the hell was he still doing there? It was a good question and Aoi resisted the urge to ask the other man to tell him if he managed to read it in Aoi’s eyes.

“Gonna listen to me now?” Aoi asked, dropping all formalities in hopes of getting the man to better understand his words. “I need a passport and I’ve been told that you’re the one to see.”

His question was met with silence. Complete, utter, nauseatingly infuriating silence.

“Look,” Aoi fumed. He took a step closer to the shorter man and felt his face burst into deep red colour. Ruki seemed to shrink away and that nasty streak in Aoi took that as a good sign. Before he knew it he was advancing on the other true and proper, working at cornering Ruki while using his height to his advantage. “All I need is for you to-”

His words died in his throat as a sardonic smile swept over the other’s face. All too quickly Ruki was turning on him and Aoi saw a flash of silver before a gun was aimed right between his eyes. Aoi stopped dead in his tracks, his mind going completely blank. Neither aspect of his somewhat split personality knew what to do and so he was left standing there, once again looking like a stunned fish who had somehow managed to jump out of the water and land in a bake dish.

“I don’t give a shit what you need.” Ruki’s voice was clear and the words came out without any of his normal slanged lilt. Cold eyes bore into Aoi’s and the gun was pressed closer to his forehead. It was a different person staring Aoi down – which was a feat unto itself – someone confident in a completely different way and someone who was used to giving orders and being obeyed. “Now what part of ‘get the fuck out of my face’ didn’t you understand?”

All it took was that one look and Aoi knew that he was almost as scared of this man as the one chasing after him with a shit load of bullets inscribed with his name. What was it with people and shoving guns in his face these days anyway?

Then again, his cynical side informed him quite annoyingly, he had brought this one on himself. The idea that he, of all people, would be able to scare this punk was just stupid and even more so in hindsight. He had been the one to start with hostile action and it got him absolutely nowhere that he wanted to be.

Aoi put his hands up in the air, open and unobtrusively and saw Ruki breathe a sigh of relief. “I meant no offence,” Aoi said, his deep, somewhat lazy voice even and calm despite the obvious danger. Honestly he had no clue how he did it, how he was able to speak without squeaking or his voice wavering. “Surely you can understand the desperation driving an anxious man.”

The man known as Ruki gave Aoi a faked, intentionally patronizing grin. It didn’t suit his face, Aoi noticed, especially the way it made his strange eyes squint closed. The expression had a way of turning the short man’s features from something almost beautiful into something twisted and horrible, like a monster out of a horror movie, and Aoi guessed that that was exactly the look Ruki was going for.

“That’s better.” Ruki said. He jabbed the gun in the direction of Aoi’s head again and this time Aoi felt the cold press of it against his skin. For a moment he thought the other man was going to try and knock him out with it, but Ruki’s next words proved him wrong. “Back away, nice and slow.”

Aoi did as he was told, his hands still up and out in the open. He wanted to say something, to apologise for his obviously stupid behaviour but the words didn’t seem to come. Not with the shorter man staring down the barrel of a gun and looking like it would take the world to stop him from pulling the trigger.

As soon as there was a large enough distance between them, Aoi saw the little man relax slightly. The gun was lowered but the safely remained off. Cold eyes looked Aoi up and down and he fought he urge to squirm. As odd as it sounded, he felt as if the other man was checking him out; that or weighing him up as a possible threat.

He must have come across as completely harmless or totally unattractive as no sooner had Ruki’s eyes reached his; the other man was looking away and grabbing a small, tightly stuffed backpack. Slinging it over his shoulder, gun still in hand, Ruki shot Aoi a warning look before once again brushing past him and heading for the door.

Aoi let him go, too startled to think of doing anything else.

“I’d suggest gettin’ the fuck outta ‘ere,” the man called over his shoulder. He was already out the door before he allowed Aoi the end of his thoughts. “Else ya find ya’self faced wit’some’ne less friendly.”

Aoi blinked, wondering what the hell had just happened. The rebellious side of him wanted to call out a smart crack about how it would be impossible to find anyone even less accommodating than the short man but he managed to keep his mouth shut. Again, self preservation kicked in and successfully eliminated his obsessive need to do something foolish. He was starting to get good at listening to that voice of reason.

A sigh filled the room. Dark eyes scanned the content of the space while Aoi stood there feeling oddly ill placed in the other man’s vacated home. There was nothing of interest apart from the computer and equipment that he gathered this ‘Ruki’ used to create his passports.

Seeing no other choice, Aoi wandered over and poked around, moving papers this way and that and looking at all the implements. They may as well have been of alien construction or something because none of them made any sense to Aoi. Any hope that his idealistic mind had held of being able to do a half assed job himself was officially thrown out the window with that one glance at the forgers desk.

“Well fuck.” It was the best he could come up with at the time and truth be told, he just felt like swearing. He didn’t have the slightest clue what to do now. He’d been banking on this character being able to solve all his problems with the flash of a camera. One little click, one flash of bright light and Aoi would be able to kiss guns and imminent death goodbye. It was the perfect dream, complete and idealistic and had Aoi’s life been a movie he was sure it would have worked.

Yet again the movies lied to him and left him sinking further into a hopeless state of affairs. Nothing was getting better, nothing was getting easier; if anything it was getting harder by the second. Time was ticking by and Aoi had that horrible feeling that something nasty was starting to catch up to him.

Flopping down on the shorter mans bed – well, what had been the shorter mans bed – Aoi rubbed the back of his neck and tried to ignore the pain in his arm.

“Well fuck,” he repeated. Yes that the statement more than nicely summed up the entire shitty situation.

*****

**Chapter Nine preview:**

Ruki dived into the car, avoiding the spray of bullets by mere millimetres. Seeing no better option – especially now that he was in the driver’s seat – Ruki fumbled for the keys and kick-started the engine. It spluttered into life, obviously unamused at being turned back on after the head on collision. Praying that it wouldn’t explode on him, Ruki yanked the gear stick, set it into reverse and slammed his foot down on the accelerator. He was already flying backwards before he glanced over his shoulder to see where he was going.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, the feels.


	11. Chapter Nine - The Dangers of Public Transport

** Chapter Nine**

The Dangers of Public Transport

*****

  
  
Ruki sat in the back of the taxi, his hands tucked under his thighs to keep them from obviously shaking.  
  
There was a feeling that wasn’t making the shaking any better and that was something he gathered was related to the people he was leaving behind without as much as a word. Had the situation allowed it, Ruki would have loved to go to Wataru and at least say goodbye – not to mention get his money – but the racing of his heart told him that he didn’t have time. Besides, he would never forgive himself if he led his assailant to the PI and his partner.  
  
It occurred to him that he could have used the weird guy he left in his apartment as a messenger but by that time he was already on the street with his bag over his shoulder and fucked it he was going to go back inside. That was just asking for trouble. Plus, the darkhaired man didn’t seem to be on the winning side for smarts, so it was probably for the best anyway.  
  
He felt like a sitting duck in the back of the car but it sure as hell beat walking to the train station. Ruki had made it to the corner of the street before getting completely freaked and opting for a taxi. The streets were too easy a place to follow someone and even if his tail had seen him get into the taxi, once they pulled into the swarm of vehicles it would have been shitfully hard to keep track of him.  
  
Ruki liked that idea. The quicker he could meld himself into the thick of the crowd and disappear the better.  
  
That of course relied on him actually getting to the train station and booking it clear out of Tokyo once and for all. Than after that, clear out of Japan.  
  
Of course Ruki had managed to throw himself into the back of one of the slowest taxi’s this side of the equator and the taxi driver was a strange runt of a man with a tendency to be twitchy. It was not settling Ruki’s nerves one bit and the fifteen minute drive was taking almost twice as long.  
  
Eyes darting to the man, Ruki tried not to make it obvious that he was watching him, but a strange curiosity came over him at the tiny change in the man’s facial expression.  
  
He had an eye twitch. An annoying little quirk on the side of his face that Ruki was offered a clear view of and that, try as he might, he just couldn’t bring himself to look away from. It would happen at the oddest of times, occasionally followed by a long pause or, even more annoyingly, followed by another twitch until Ruki could see the tears welling up in the guy’s eye.  
  
Ruki almost felt sorry for the guy. Would have been a batfuck-mad thing to live with. Twitching at everything; family photos and there was that twitch. Talking to someone in the bar and it constantly looked like a wink or something just as suggestive. Going to the bank; twitch. Taking a dump; twitch. Dearly beloved grandpa dies, twitch, twitch, twitch.  
  
Shitty way to live really.  
  
As Ruki stared the man’s eye gave an almighty leap that gave it the appearance of trying to jump clean off the side of his head. Ruki frowned. He’d been watching the guy enough to know that that last little jump of nerves was something entirely different and Ruki’s hand bunched up into tight fists under his legs.  
  
“Shit,” the taxi driver yelled. The once barely noticeable change turned into a full blown scrunch up of the face and if Ruki hadn’t suspected that something was wrong, he sure as hell knew it then.  
  
Following that twang of realization everything seemed to happen at once. The man’s head snapped to the right, looking out of the window even though his arms frantically turned the steering wheel to the left. The sound of screaming tires filled the air, drowning out everything, including Ruki’s ability to think. Quickly looking towards the right window, Ruki was just in time to see a black car come screeching around the corner at a breakneck speed and accelerate towards the taxi.  
  
“Fuck!” Ruki yelled. He stiffened in his seat, his eyes going huge as he started to pound his fist against the security cage that separated passenger and driver. “Fuckin’ ‘urry up!” The driver seemed intent to ignore him as his hands slid on the wheel. At least the man’s eye was no longer twitching; his face was completely screwed up but it was sure as hell better than that damn twitch.  
  
After that it was a blur. Ruki knew that he had squeezed his eyes closed in fear as the other car made a b-line for the front of the taxi. Next came the screech of the tires, the sounds of shattering glass and a strangled cry from the driver in the front seat. The small world within the car jerked painfully at the collision and it seemed as if both cars just stayed in the one spot forever before finally rebounding and spinning off course. Ruki had no clue what happened to the other vehicle, all he knew was that they were spinning faster and faster towards the left side of the road and that thankfully they hadn’t hit anything else as yet. From the sounds that the tires made as they skidded across the asphalt, the driver was doing naught to try and bring the car to a stop and it was with a strange sense of clarity that Ruki knew that he was already dead.  
  
Ruki was roughly thrown to the right as the side of the car smashed into a post with a deafening roar. The left back door popped open under the pressure of the crumpling metal.  
  
As the car screamed to a halt, the sickening turns and loops finally coming to an end, Ruki felt his head pound against the metal security grate of the back-cab. Pain shot across his temple as the skin split and a wave of dizziness washed over him. For a moment all he could see was blackness; no lights from the neon signs on the streets, no flashing of headlights. Nothing.  
  
Groaning, his head leaning against the cold metal as the world spun around him yet again, Ruki felt the blood pounding in his temples with such force he was sure that his veins could not handle the rhythm.  
  
With his ears still ringing from the screeching of the tires on the asphalt and the shattering of glass, it took him longer then normal to realize that he was surrounded by other sounds. Somewhere far off there was a woman screaming, calling for the police as there was an accident. The hum of the engine was muffled, its purrs uneven and spluttering as if it were slowly running out of breath and dying. They were all little things that he had failed to notice as the car spun off the road, but now, his eyes pressed tightly closed in pain, his sight having stepped aside to allow his hearing to enhance, he could identify them all. And then some.  
  
All around him – surrounding the car, echoing off the buildings, and rattling in his head – were rapid bangs like tiny bombs detonating. Subconsciously knowing what it was, Ruki tried to put two and two together; the crash, the way the other car had aimed right at them even as the driver attempted to evade, the sound of gunfire...it all seemed to lead to one thing and one thing only.  
  
A name; a person and a reason for Ruki to get his ass in gear and get the fuck out of there.  
  
Forcing his head to lift and causing his aching neck to throb all the more, Ruki begged the world to stop the continuous spiralling dance that it wove around him. He was about to look to the open left door, expecting the absolute worst, when the ear-splintering sound of a bullet ripping through the glass of the back window sent his head to his knees again. A shower of broken glass rained down around him, falling into the knotted mess of his hair and prickling his skin.  
  
The curtain of bullets seemed never-ending, each and every one soaring above his head to fly at the windscreen or sink into the backs of the front chairs. Clumps of stuffing and shredded vinyl rained down over Ruki, mixing with the shattered glass until the inside of the car looked like a war zone.  
  
Only when the air above him settled and the sound of fire seemed to change directions did Ruki allow his head to rise slowly; lethargically. Hands braced against the back of the seat, he carefully started to slide himself over the glass covered vinyl, making his way for the door and all the while wishing that his head would cease its wild spinning. At first he’d failed to notice the deep gash that the impact had made; that was until warm blood was running down his face and pooling at the corner of his mouth. Now he could feel it, hell, taste it in all its painful, nauseating glory.  
  
The sound of the right car door being ripped open and the swoosh of fabric against the cheap vinyl seats reminded him of his position, and not for the first time in his life, he looked at the situation in a critical, tactical way. He was a sitting duck in this car; a target screaming out to be taken down and annihilated. Nothing about that was okay with Ruki and counterfeit artist knew that he had to get the hell out of there.  
  
He was halfway to the left door when a shadow loomed in from the right, blocking out the lights and filling the car with a sinister darkness. Glaring up at the backlit figure, he saw only the smallest hint of light reflected in the man’s glasses and it was then that Ruki finally noticed that the ringing in his ears was just that. Ringing. The shots had ceased and other than the terrified screams of the onlookers and the ticking engine of the crumpled car, nothing else could be heard.  
  
For a moment both of them seemed to just glare at each other in dead stillness, neither one daring to make the first move which, considering who he was dealing with, struck Ruki as being slightly odd. Whether he liked it or not, Ruki had dealt with his fair share of assassins – both as a target and an employer – and some of them… well, their reputation often preceded them, even if no one was alive to tell the tale of what they looked like.  
  
Then, minds appearing to be working as one, both whirled into action.  
  
Ruki threw himself at the other side of the seat, aiming for the left door and relying only on his feet to propel him along as his hands reached for the door handle. The assassin ducked his head and reached into the car, his hands grasping at anything that was within his reach. Ruki felt a strong hand grab onto his left foot. His attacker gave a determined yank; Ruki lost his balance and fell face-first into the glass shards and the strong smell of vinyl.  
  
“Fuck me,” Ruki muttered as the man’s grip closed around his ankle. It squashed the bone and pressed in on the ligaments and felt something like a hammer. One of those huge carnival ones, impounding down on his foot and Ruki didn’t want to think about how much it would hurt to walk on it afterwards.  
  
Ruki struggled against the grip, his fingers clawing for a handhold. They finally locked onto the far side of the front passenger seat where he dug his nails into the already shredded vinyl. His body stretched as the man continued to pull at his foot, dragging Ruki into a living tug-of-war hell. It took all his strength to fight back to the point where, while lying on his side, he was able to hook an elbow over the side of the seat to give him better leverage.  
  
Pulling the injured foot forward with as much might as he could muster, Ruki painfully tore his ankle from the strangers grip before letting his right leg fly out, the heel of his boot colliding with the man’s jaw. That sure as hell saw the stranger stumbling back.  
  
With the man reeling back slightly, Ruki used the few moments to get himself together. He had survived worse than this – escaped worse than this – all he needed to do was get out of the fucking car. That was the best and only place to start.  
  
He pulled himself onto his stomach and dragged his body across the slippery, glass covered back seat. He could feel the jagged cuts ripping through his flesh as bits of glass caught on the vinyl and turned up, shredding the material of his shirt and jacket while drawing blood from the pale skin beneath. It fucking hurt like a hot poker but he ignored it. Wimping out and staying there with the assassin would only hurt more.  
  
Ruki’s gloved hands gripped the side of the car and he literally hauled himself forward over the seat. Hands first, he tumbled ungracefully out of the car and onto the road, feeling his head spin at the disorientating angle. Ruki’s feet followed, his knees hitting the glass covered asphalt with a painful thud.  
  
He tried to ignore it; ignore everything from the way his head was dangerously light to the bleeding cuts on his body to the way that people screamed as he dragged himself out of the smashed car like a corpse in a horror movie. It wasn’t easy. The pain only intensified with each stretch of his limbs and the world outside of the taxi, the assassin and himself was anything but calm.  
  
Using the side of the vehicle for assistance, Ruki forced his jelly like legs to support him as he stood. Nothing about it was pretty, especially not the way his head felt shitfully too large for his body or the fact that he could see a line of his own blood across the back of the seat.  
  
Contact covered eyes flicked up and over the roof of the car, seeking out the face of the assassin. To his surprise his attacker just stood there, looking back at him as if he wanted Ruki to see his identity. One last look at the man who was going to kill him; Ruki shivered despite the heat in his panic ridden body.  
  
Staring at him over the top of the car, Ruki felt his blood run cold. While he didn’t know the man, there was no mistaking that appearance. The closely shaved blonde hair, the tattoos and the way the man stood…  
  
It was the man Ruki had seen in the foyer of his apartment block only a few days ago.  
  
He’d been followed all this time. Stalked and staked out like an animal at the bottom of the food chain.  
  
Again neither seemed to want to move. Ruki’s heart was beating faster and faster in his chest. He had to come up with something else this would be the end. Here, in the streets and only five minutes away from the sanctuary that he was seeking. Life was cruel and unusual but even Ruki felt cheated by that outcome.  
  
Even so thinking was almost impossible at such a time. The blood ran out of his head wound like a released damn and he could already start to feel it soaking into his shirt. The whirlwind of commotion around him added to the disorientating feeling; the lights seemed to streak across his vision, as if his eyes were fitted with slowly motion lenses while sounds dropped in and out of his hearing.  
  
Coherency was a thing of the past as Ruki stood there, telling himself that he had to come up with some harebrained plan before it was too late. Pulling his gun, while appealing, probably wasn’t the best of ideas. The assassin no doubt had a hell of a lot more experience with firearms and with the way that Ruki’s vision dipped in and out of focus he didn’t much like his chances of being able to shoot straight.  
  
That left running and while Ruki hated the idea, his pain filled mind told him it was a good one. Now it was just a matter of what way to go and how to get past the other man. With the building at Ruki’s back and the street on the other side, it was no wonder that the assassin wasn’t too worried. It left Ruki completely boxed in and with nowhere to go other than developing superpowers and climbing straight up the wall.  
  
“Fuck ‘em,” Ruki muttered. Any movement was better than just standing there waiting to be killed.  
  
With that in mind Ruki dashed to the back of the car but as he had half expected the assassin did the same. Ruki pulled himself to an abrupt halt and changed directions within a heartbeat. Again, the man on the other side of the car mirrored Ruki’s actions, instigating what Ruki vaguely saw as a twisted game of chasey or duck, duck, goose or something else just as irritating.  
  
Ruki didn’t have the fucking patience to deal with this sort of crap, especially once he saw that strange smile creep across the assassins face. The fucker was enjoying this.  
  
Wanting to do the unexpected, Ruki braced his hands on the smashed bonnet of the car and hauled himself up. In one leap, he landed in a crouch on the crumpled front of the car. About to celebrate his victory by launching off at the assassin, Ruki’s eyes expanded in shock as the other man mirrored him yet again.  
  
Action for action, thought for thought. It was like they shared the same brain.  
  
Out of options, Ruki found himself standing in front of the man whose eyes had been watching him for days. They must had made an odd sight; two short men standing motionless on the bonnet of a smashed car in the middle of a terror stricken street but Ruki didn’t have the time nor the want to spare the publics’ perception a thought.  
  
Face to face, there was hardly any difference in height between the two and Ruki was thankful for that small favour. It made things easier in the long run, at least for Ruki, as he knew from personal experience that it was a hell of a lot harder to block the attacks from a taller opponent.  
  
With no options other than to back down or engage, Ruki settled on the latter of the two. If he had to die here then he would damn well go down fighting.  
  
Ruki’s right fist flew forward, the action deliberately wide as his left fist also rushed in. It was his left hand that hit, colliding with the man’s jaw even as the assassin grabbed at Ruki’s wild right arm. The assassin’s head snapped backwards in a flurry of blood and spit, all accentuated with a groan.  
  
With his right arm caught, Ruki felt the man yank and twist the limb. Ruki moved with it, ducking under his own arm else risk having the limb snapped in two. The assassin was strong, much stronger than Ruki had given him credit for and clearly stronger than Ruki himself.  
  
Ruki’s feet were as steady as possible on the crushed metal as he came up under the other’s grip. He had to be careful with his footing which was harder then it would have seemed. With the buckled metal of the car being littered with shards of glass, every step that he took threatened to be his last.  
  
The assassin didn’t let go as Ruki had expected, merely tightened his grip and yanked at Ruki’s’ limb with joint splitting force. The bartender stumbled and gasped as his arm was forced upwards. He turned with it again, this time exposing his back to the other man and all too quickly for Ruki’s liking the assassin had a grip on his elbow as well. With a skilled shove, Ruki felt his arm getting pushed straight up his back, bordering on the point of snapping as his elbow was forced to follow through.  
  
Ruki struggled in the hold, finding it almost impossible to move. He could feel the assassin bearing down on him, crushing his arm upwards even as he forced Ruki to bend at the waist. For a moment Ruki panicked. He’d expected a hard fight – nothing simple by far – but this? His arm was wrenched again and he fought against the want to cry out.  
  
A grunt passed his lips as he once again tried to yank his arm free. It got him nowhere and only offered more pain. Seeing no other option, Ruki tried to subtly move his left hand around his back, aiming for his gun.  
  
The assassin pressed more weight against Ruki’s arm, lifting it further and forcing Ruki to double over. His head was almost to the windscreen, granting him a front on visage of the deceased driver and with some disgust, Ruki realised that the man had been ripped apart by a scattering of bullets. It was a hell of a way to go; killed in a car accident and then having your flesh shredded in a gun fight, and nothing about it looked pretty.  
  
Ruki’s hand was almost to his gun when he felt the assassin shift against him. It was as if the other man was reading his mind, seeing into his thoughts and anticipating his every movement. With speed that rivalled a jaguar, Ruki felt the assassin’s hand chop down against this left before the comforting weight of his gun was lifted from the back of his pants.  
  
Ruki wanted to swear. To rant and rave and bitch until he was able to get free. As stupid as it sounded, he hated anyone else touching his gun. Though he didn’t have to worry about that for too long as the sound of it clattering against the pavement reached his ears and his heart sank. That was even worse. Someone had thrown his gun! It had cost a fortune; silver plated and carved, the weapon had belonged to a set but sadly its twin had been lost some years ago.  
  
Despite all that, it now left him in an even worse situation. Trapped by an assassin and unarmed wasn’t the place anyone would want to be, especially not Ruki.  
  
Mind racing wildly, Ruki threw his left elbow backwards, arching it up towards the other’s face. At the same time Ruki stomped down with his foot, scraping the edge of his boot all the way down the man’s shin before slamming the heel down on the man’s toes.  
  
While his elbow failed to hit anything it at least forced the man to duck, an action that saw him finally releasing Ruki’s arm once pain no doubt exploded in their foot. Thus freed, Ruki spun on his heels and lashed out at the man’s side. The flat of his foot impacted against skin and bone alike and the assassin was left gasping for air.  
  
Seeing his opportunity, Ruki made a dash to the side, intending to get off the car and run for it. His action was pulled to a painful halt when the assassin, quick as a cobra, lashed out and chopped at Ruki’s neck with his forearm. Ruki ran straight into the blow, feeling the limb crush in on his windpipe and send him staggering backwards.  
  
Through the pain, Ruki couldn’t help but be impressed. The man’s reaction time was terrifyingly quick and his ability to recover from attacks demonstrated just how skilled he was.  
  
Caught completely off guard, Ruki was powerless as the assassin grabbed him by the hair and dragged him backwards. Ruki yelped in terror as the man tugged on his dreads. His hands flew up, gripping at his scalp in a feeble attempt to minimize the tugging. He struggled to gain his footing but the assassin wouldn’t let him and all too quickly Ruki felt his heel press down on a slippery shard of glass and his feet skid out form under him.  
  
For a horrific moment he was suspended in motion, his feet scrambling against the car to try and get a grip while he hung in the assassin’s grasp by his hair. It was excruciating and it seemed the more that he struggled the more hair ripped from his scalp.  
  
Just when he thought it would be less painful to cut his own head off, the assassin changed his grip. A pointed elbow slammed down into the middle of Ruki’s chest, catching him in between the ribs. Instantly Ruki choked, coughing and spluttering as blood raced up the back of his throat and spilt out of his mouth. It trickled down his chin in red rivets and blended into his already stained white jacket.  
  
Ruki felt the assassin flick his wrist before smashing his foot against Ruki’s right knee. Pain flooded through his legs and Ruki crumpled. Yet instead of hanging from his hair, Ruki felt the man swing his arm and let go entirely.  
  
Sickening clarity came to Ruki’s mind as he flew off the side of the car like a rag doll.  
  
Ruki’s back hit the pavement hard, jarring his entire body with the force of the fall. Pain erupted in his spine and spread like a tidal wave through his body until it was all Ruki knew. Fear was gone, panic and terror. Even his pride melted away until all that he could feel was the mind numbing agony.  
  
He lay there for a moment, panting and hating the feeling that the unsteady rise of his chest caused. It was almost impossible to breathe around the blood lining the back of his throat and each gulp for air caused stabbing waves of agony to spread out across his chest and ribs. His throat burned with each intake of breath and he wouldn’t have been surprised if the skin was already bruising and swelling. Blood bubbled and frothed at the corners of his mouth as he struggled to breathe around the thick, choking liquid.  
  
Ruki had experienced some damn painful things in his time but this; this was like nothing he had ever felt before. It was mind numbing, overwhelming his body and lulling his brain into slowing down.  
  
Head lolling to the side, Ruki spat out a mouthful of bubbly red, feeling it dripping down his chin and cheek. At least it finally made breathing somewhat easier. He blinked, trying to clear his sight as he spat out another glob.  
  
It was then that he saw something that made him frown. Just near his head, off to the left, was his backpack.  
  
“Heh,” he coughed out. It seemed odd. Looking at it provoked such a surreal feeling, though it was one that he couldn’t quite explain. In a way, it seemed that despite everything, one tiny, insignificant little thing was working in his favour. He would have preferred his gun to be sitting there, but his backpack would do and it worked just the same to get his tired body motivated.  
  
A new sense of purpose rushed over him and kick-started his protesting body back into action. Rolling onto his stomach, Ruki reached out blindly for the bag and hooked one arm into the long shoulder strap. He yanked it towards him as he started to army crawl forward.  
  
There was a series of shouts again and Ruki knew that it was the assassin once again approaching. Ruki didn’t need to look; he didn’t even need to guess. His sense of danger was tingling again and he knew that the man wouldn’t go down easily. Ruki couldn’t possibly be so lucky.  
  
Forcing himself to move faster, Ruki pulled his protesting body into a hunched position and slung the backpack over his shoulder. His leg was throbbing like it was on fire. It felt like hundreds of thick, dark, twisted thorns were burning into his knee, cutting the skin and scraping at the bone. Without even standing he knew that running wasn’t going to be his strongest point.  
  
Spitting another mouthful of blood onto the pavement, Ruki’s eyes blinked through the pain and settled on his best chance of escape.  
  
As if in answer to his decision another string of bullets whizzed passed his head and Ruki found himself on his feet and hobbling blindly towards what he hoped would be salvation.  
  
He ducked to the right, avoiding getting shot through some miracle and came to a skidding stop in front of the car the assassin had been driving. The spray of bullets arched after him, tearing up the pavement and the already ruined cars and Ruki took a spur of the moment gamble.  
  
Ruki dived into the car, avoiding the spray of bullets by mere millimetres. Seeing no better option now that he was in the driver’s seat, Ruki fumbled for the keys and kick-started the engine. It spluttered into life, obviously unamused at being turned back on after the head on collision. Praying that it wouldn’t explode on him, Ruki yanked the gear stick, setting it into reverse and slammed his foot down on the accelerator. He was already flying backwards before he glanced over his shoulder to see where he was going.  
  
He bumped up over the gutter, feeling the spin of the wheel as the back right tire was shot out. Swearing colourfully to himself, Ruki fought to pull the car straight. The steering wheel turned over and over again, spinning the car in a death defying continuous loop. The back left clipped a post, jarring the car and Ruki’s neck, but in the long run it helped Ruki avoid smashing side on into the side of a building.  
  
The sounds of gunfire followed him as he drove the wrecked car as fast as it could manage. It was miraculous that the car was still moving at all. The tireless wheel scraped the entire way, letting out sparks, tearing up the pavement and giving the car the insistent urge to turn to the right which was hella hard to fight. It reminded Ruki of shopping trolleys with wonky wheels that seemed determined to plough into anything and everything. For a brief moment he saw the streets as shelves lined with grocery items but he quickly blinked the vision away and tried to concentrate.  
  
After what felt like forever, Ruki saw sanctuary looming out of the line of shelves – buildings. The train station. He hadn’t even realised that he had been going in the right direction.  
  
Ruki slammed on the brakes, feeling them lock up and skid with the loss of his back tire. Yanking the steering wheel over as far as he could, he threw the car into a jack-knifing spin, steering like a maniac as he attempted to aim the front of the car at the train station. It was harder then it should be and took all his strength to turn the bloody wheel.  
  
As the car spun out of control, people starting screaming and running. All around him the sounds of cries and shouts told him that he was far from making the subtle getaway he had wanted. Well fuck it all. Finally getting the vehicle under control, Ruki reved the engine and stared the building down like it was his greatest foe.  
  
With a shrug, Ruki slammed the car into drive and flattened the pedal against the floor. The glass doors of the train station raced up to meet him, marking what was quite possibly the stupidest thing he’d ever done.  
  
Then again when it came down to a choice of dying while driving a car into a building or getting killed by a hired assassin, Ruki could sure as hell pick his preference and do it with minimal thought.  
  
He tried not to think of the pain that would likely come just as he tried not to think about the people within. Hopefully they had heard the sounds from down the street and had cleared out, or had at least seen the car coming at them. Though, while it may have seemed harsh and cold, Ruki wanted to get away and more importantly, he wanted to live. It wouldn’t have been the first time his actions had gotten people killed, but that was what life on the run was all about.  
  
As the building loomed over him, Ruki closed his eyes, folded his arms over the steering wheel, ducked his head and prayed for the best.  
  
The sound of smashing glass and screaming tires could be heard for miles as the car plunged into the side of the building.  
  
Ruki’s entire body rattled at the impact, his teeth clenching down on his bottom lip and tongue, drawing blood. His neck whipped backwards and then forwards, smashing into his hands and the steering wheel alike. Panels of glass and plaster rained down around him, dragging behind the car as it continued to slide forward. The horn started to blare as his body slumped forward lifelessly.  
  
As the noise subsided, the wheels spinning uselessly on the polished floor and smoke drifting up from the bonnet, the entire place was still. Nothing moved; neither the terrified bystanders nor the body slumped over the car.  
  
It was like a frame of a film, frozen, staged and preserved for all eternity.  


*****

**Chapter Ten preview:**

  
  
The thing that got to Aoi was that he really didn’t understand why Wataru was stressing. Aoi was meant to be stressing. Not Wataru. It was Aoi who had just been left high and dry and with his best chances of getting out of the damn country gone in a flurry of attitude. It was Aoi who had a pissed off short man shove a gun in his face. It was Aoi who had just been shot at!  
  
And here was Wataru absolutely stressing about the fact that some punk kid with more guts than height had packed up and left town.  


*****


	12. Chapter Ten - Of Smugglers Tunnels and Contingency Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who've been here before, this is the chapter that I consider the turning point. Up until here, I was sort of playing around and splashing at things, and while I wasn't flying blind and I did know where I wanted things to go, it was this chapter (and really the next) that solidified the whole concept. 
> 
> To me, this chapter is the coffin, next is the nail and chapter 12 is the hammer that slams it all home and sets up the story (and the unpublished trilogy that is still sitting in the back of my head).

**Chapter Ten**

Of Smugglers Tunnels and Contingency Plans

*****

For the second time that day, Aoi stood in the middle of Wataru's small office and simply looked at the other man. As in, actually looked at him. Took in the details of his face, the signs of worry and the way that his pen kept disappearing into his mouth and out again like he knew he shouldn’t be chewing on the cursed thing.

It was a nerve inducing act and Aoi was two seconds away from reaching over that desk and ripping the bloody pen out of Wataru’s hand. What he did with it after that would be more of a spur of the moment thing and Aoi thought it best not to contemplate that for too long.

Cigarette. Aoi needed a cigarette.

Seeing no real reason not to have one, Aoi deposited himself into one of the chairs and started fishing around in his pockets. It was somewhat baffling to him why he always had to do that – fish around in his pockets – but he put it down to his shambolic state of mind at the moment.

“When you say ‘left’ you mean ‘gone’ right?” Wataru asked for what Aoi knew to be the forth time. And he did know too, he’d been counting. Nodding at Wataru’s question, Aoi finally located his cigarettes before sending his hands back in to dark recesses of his pockets to look for his lighter. Aoi had actually stopped verbally responding to the question after the second time and now he was hard pressed to even keep listening.

He just needed a cigarette. One more smoke and everything would be fine.

It was a smile of pure triumph that spread over his face as he pulled out his lighter. Thus armed, he flicked a cigarette out of his packet and lit it up. His mind automatically surrendered to that wonderful sway of tobacco and his heart did flip-flops with that first glorious inhale.

It somehow made everything better and the world an easier place to deal with even as Wataru asked, for the fifth time, “When you say ‘left’ you mean ‘gone’ as in, packed up and gone?”

Aoi nodded again, impressed with the extra addition to Wataru’s comment. Maybe that meant that they were getting somewhere.

The thing that got to Aoi was that he really didn’t understand why Wataru was stressing. Aoi was meant to be stressing. Not Wataru. It was Aoi who had just been left high and dry and with his best chances of getting out of the damn country gone in a flurry of attitude. It was Aoi who had a pissed off short man shove a gun in his face. It was Aoi who had just been shot at!

And here was Wataru absolutely stressing about the fact that some punk kid with more guts than height had packed up and left town.

It made no sense not to mention that Aoi failed to see why he should care. But then again, he had a cigarette, so he actually didn’t give a damn.

“Ruki’s gone…” Wataru repeated to which Aoi merely rolled his eyes. The hacker wondered how long he’d have to listen to his ranting. Though, he told himself, it was something of a reassurance that there was someone in the world who seemed to be lagging more than him in the ability to formulate coherent thoughts.

“Ruki’s gone… but all his money is here…” If Aoi had been paying attention he would have found that bit of information interesting but at the moment he was focusing all his attention on not paying attention to Wataru which was a lot harder than he would have thought.

“Was he in a hurry?”

“If you define hurry by almost knocking me over and shoving a gun in my face, then yeah, I guess he was a tad rushed.”

Wataru seemed to contemplate those words for awhile, weighing them up like a man exchanging gold for money. From the look on his face Aoi could tell that Wataru wasn’t actually paying attention to the bit where Aoi again pointed out that Ruki had fundamentally threatened to kill him. Didn’t surprise Aoi in the slightest; Wataru seemed to have very selective hearing when it came to things like that.

“What did he take with h-”

“For crying out loud,” Aoi snapped. He gave his cigarette a dismissive flick and sent the ash flying. “Get over it. So the little shit ran. Who cares? I don’t. Just give me another name and let me get out of here and then I promise you can obsess over this Ruki as long as you want.”

“It’s not as simple as that,” Wataru said. He seemed remarkably un-phased by Aoi’s little outburst, leading Aoi to believe that either Wataru had been expecting it or that Wataru had mostly ignored him yet again.

Aoi huffed in response and took another drag from his cigarette. Wataru continued on, musing out loud; or maybe he thought that Aoi actually gave a damn and was opening up room for conversation. “Ruki wouldn’t just leave.”

“Well he did.” Aoi replied tersely. Call it harsh but it was the truth of the matter. Ruki left. He was gone, booking it out of the city in a speed that Aoi envied and there was nothing that Wataru’s endless worrying could do.

“Something must have happened…”

“So?” Aoi could hear the whine in his own voice and it irritated even him. His cynical inner self told him that he was acting like a child but he promptly shut it up. After the day he had had, Aoi thoroughly believed that he had earned the right to act however the hell he wanted.

“What would have Ruki running for the hills?”

“You know what, something did happen! It happened to me! I got shot at. No, I got shot! Shot, Wataru, shot and if I don’t get that damn passport then it is highly likely that I’ll get shot again and I don’t much fancy that idea!”

“So,” Wataru said and once again Aoi felt like his actions were going completely unnoticed. Maybe he wasn’t yelling loud enough, or maybe he should have caused a commotion by jumping to his feet and knocking the seat over. Maybe even jump up onto a couch and pound his fists in the air or something. “It means that something is going down.”

Aoi knew when to admit defeat. He may be stubborn and suffer from momentary lapses of intelligence, but he sure as hell wasn’t stupid or blind. “What do you think happened?” he asked. Maybe if he appealed to Wataru’s curiosity then this would be over quicker and he could get the PI to focus on the information that Aoi needed.

Wataru looked thoughtful for a moment, weighing up Aoi’s words and Aoi managed to keep the sneer off his face. Trust Wataru to hear Aoi now when Aoi was saying only what the PI wanted him too.

Before the shorter man was able to reply with any more of his hypothetical ramblings, a strange sound cut through the night which made Aoi jump in his seat. It sounded like a fog horn reverberating off the surrounding buildings at a painfully high pitch. Aoi cringed and rubbed at his ears in annoyance. It really wasn’t an overly pleasant sound and if he was able to find out who set it off, he would give them a less than polite piece of his thoughts.

“What the hell was that?” Aoi asked, his eyes glancing to the window that seemed closest to the noise. It was starting to get to the point of making him shiver, much like nails on a chalkboard.

His question wasn’t met with a normal spoken answer. Instead he heard Wataru’s chair scrape against the floor and felt the other’s hands on his head. Blinking in surprise, Aoi was dragged out of the chair and pushed to the floor.

Aoi gasped in shock and lifted his head, about to give Wataru a mouthful when an all too familiar rattling sound crashed back into his world.

Gunfire. Fast and sure and seeming as if the shooter had no fear of running out of ammunition.

Aoi had heard it a thousand times in movies, been responsible for it millions of times in games and yet his one experience with the sound in real life was enough that he would never forget it. Not the real sound. The one that spoke of death and pain all mixed with danger and fear. That was a sound that he would never forget, no matter how long he lived.

Though, his cynical side reminded him, all things considered, that might not be all that long.

“Get down,” Wataru commanded. Aoi did as he was told, thankful that he wasn’t alone this time. This whole gun thing was starting to freak him out.

Bullets tore the place apart. Papers scattered, wood splintered and the plastic blinds ripped in half with each rattling bang. Aoi pictured it like skin. Saw the way paper floated in the air and the stuffing that puffed out of the chairs like chunks of flesh and globs of blood. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried not to focus on the sound or the smell.

A large, cylindrical item crashed through the window and rolled into the middle of the floor. Aoi stared at it, his mind unable to process what it was or the danger that it heralded.

“Oh shit,” Wataru yelled. Aoi watched as the man made a crazy dash at the item. It was like the world was going in slow motion, like one of those movies that slowed the pace down as the sidekick died and the hero screamed. Only thing was that this wasn’t a movie and that there was no hushed orchestral soundtrack playing over the top of the action. It was all noise and fear, danger and terror.

All of a sudden Wataru stopped his rush and instead threw himself to the side. A moment later the PI’s desk uprooted itself and flipped over, sending papers, files and computer equipment crashing to the floor. Aoi heard his name screamed out over the bellowing noise and after something that sounded like ‘move’ and ‘here’ he was doing just that. His legs were propelling him forward before he even noticed that he was standing. Unsure as to whether he jumped or tripped, all Aoi knew was that he was suddenly behind the desk with Wataru, panting and wondering why.

Then the strange little metal cylinder exploded.

Aoi had thought that the bullets were loud but they were nothing compared to this.

It was like a million bottles smashing all at once, all accentuated with a deafening bang that made the ceiling fan quiver dangerously on its exposed wires. There was an explosion in the middle of the room and then Aoi felt his skin start to burn. But it wasn’t heat; it was a tearing, ripping sort of pain that reminded him of the bullet that had taken that chunk out of his arm.

With his eyes shut and his head down, he felt Wataru stiffen beside him as the roar continued. Aoi could smell blood. He could feel it, warm and thick against his skin and yet there seemed to be little identifiable pain.

Small particles rained down on him, drumming against his skin like acid rain. Clarity came like a hammer to the skull, telling Aoi that everywhere he felt that light pressure, more and more blood started to run. It was getting to the point were Aoi could smell blood in the air, sniff it out like some crazed bloodhound or a starving vampire.

Finally the room became still. Aoi pictured it like a frozen scene from a video game, a wide panning camera showing the extent of the damage and the bodies strewn about adding their blood to the mess. Ghostly, silent and still as the grave. A death scene. He imagined that now would be the time that the girls in the audience would grimace and hide their faces, some weeping at the loss of an idol actor while the guys were cheer and want to be there.

Aoi suddenly felt like his entire life was a waste, based and formed upon a lie and a dream. An aspiration for excitement and adventure. A want to be an unlikely hero and now he would give everything he owned to be back in front of his computer or in a movie theatre cheering for the good guy and another explosion scene.

It was strange how everything changed as soon as you were there, living it and feeling and trembling in fear of it all.

As if that still silence offended the shooter, a hail of bullets once again tore into the room and the world was pushed into fast forward once again.

“What the fuck?” He couldn’t even hear his own voice over the ringing of his ears and for once, he was rather grateful. Aoi could feel it quiver in the back of his throat, feel the words as they were strangled out of him and the idea of how they must have sounded terrified him even more than the whizzing bullets.

Everywhere Aoi looked there was broken glass, metal and what looked like nails. He stared at the mess, his mind trying to work through the fog of fear to put a name to the scene. It was like a war zone, the destructive mess of a bomb filled with more than just explosives.

A shrapnel bomb.

Again movies had lied to him, cheated him out of reality and taken him into a world that was endlessly more romantic than real life. Movies made this stuff out to be comical in an endlessly morbid way. Nails and hunks of metal sticking out of odd places and quivering with the force of the blow.

That wasn’t what had happened to Wataru’s office. There were random hunks of shrapnel everywhere, that bit was at least true, but that was just it. It was everywhere. The desk, the chairs, the walls and even the ceiling was covered in a layer of deadly sharp pieces. When Aoi moved he felt them grate against his skin and catch on his clothing, ripping and cutting and pulling more blood out of his veins. It was everywhere. His hair, his shirt. He could feel it against his face, under his hands and knees and slicing into his arms. There was no strategically placed sections, no order to the destruction that surrounded them.

It was a ghastly, bloody mess that stood to contradict even the most violent of movie sequences. He felt shocked, speechless and frozen to the spot at the thought of this being real, of this being his life from now on. This was what he was going to have to put up with. Hiding behind furniture as bullets and bombs sought to destroy him.

This was it and all because of some stupid name in a stupid file.

Abruptly his mind reverted back to that conversation with Miyavi the day the job had come in. The way that he had so animatedly refused to take it and the way he had caved into the seductive sway of money.

It all seemed rather stupid now that he was lying on the floor and cowering away from sure death.

Aoi wondered how things would have gone if he had made that damn coffee and resisted that envelope. Would he still be here, bleeding and nigh on terrified or would this relentless killer still be after him for whatever it was that he didn’t know?

And then a thought struck him. It was like a slap in the face and Aoi was sure that he actually flinched as it entered his mind.

Miyavi.

Was he involved in all this just like Aoi? Had he run as Aoi had suggested or was he still down in the basement without a care in the world?

Or, more importantly, had Aoi led the gunman right to one of the few people Aoi would consider a friend. A friend despite all that they had been through and all the nasty words exchanged.

Was Miyavi still alive?

“Aoi!” The sharpness in Wataru’s tone convinced Aoi that the PI had been screaming at him for awhile now. Aoi looked up, his eyes locking with Wataru’s the let the other man know that he was finally back in the present and hadn’t completely lost his mind.

Wataru was faring a lot better than him and again Aoi was thankful of the other’s presence. The shorter man looked worse for ware with a deep gash across his neck and his clothes and hair astray, but at least he was functioning which was a hell of a lot more than what Aoi could say for himself.

“Cover your nose.” Aoi did as the PI told him even if it did seem a little weird. The lowest of Wataru’s desk drawers flew open and the investigator was gripping something in his hand as if his life depended on it.

An over arm toss saw Wataru throwing the object into the middle of the room just near where the shrapnel bomb had exploded. If Wataru had been aiming the device at the window than Aoi didn’t want to be the one to tell him that his aim was well and truly off.

It only took a moment for the little object to dissolve into a million pieces under the inner pressure and since Wataru didn’t seem too panicked that he had thrown it into the room and not out the window, Aoi decided that it must have been semi-safe.

Smoke filled the room, bellowing out and clouding Aoi’s vision. A scraping sound added to the resounding noise of the bullets and Aoi felt the leg of the overturned table hitting his side.

“Ok, now move,” Wataru commanded in his ear and Aoi felt himself getting tugged to his feet. Wataru’s hand pressed against his back, keeping him crouched low and finally Aoi started putting one and one together.

The smoke was a distraction since the shooter could no doubt see right into the room. Wataru had moved the table to cover their retreat and the sound of bullets sinking into wood confirmed that thought.

Wataru’s hand pulled Aoi to a stop and hacker felt the shorter man move in front of him. There was a bang that wasn’t from any gun and a squeak from something that sounded long since rusted and then Aoi felt the cold sting of air against his face. Wataru once again pulled him along.

“Step,” Wataru yelled. The bullets were slowing but they seemed to echo through the small room with such vigour that Aoi was sure he’d never hear anything again. Aoi found the step that Wataru was talking about the hard way and after tipping dangerously close to falling flat on his face, finally found his footing enough to follow.

His shoulders were rubbing against the cold touch of cement and Aoi had to keep his head ducked in order to prevent himself from getting brained against the ceiling. It must have been some sneaky back entrance to the place and Aoi’s mind once again went to the movies. Smugglers passageways, hidden doors and books that triggered walls that weren’t really walls. That or this was just a really small entrance that had been designed by midgets.

Up ahead there was another step, metal sliding against metal and then light flooded into the tight hallway. Artificial light; a street lamp and a flickering neon sign and with one more step Aoi was out into the street.

He had no clue where he was but it sure as hell wasn’t The Gauntlet. He guessed that they had passed through the building next to Wataru’s office and come out in the next alleyway over.

Aoi limped after Wataru, coughing as he did so. The clean, smoke free air burnt his starved lungs and his eyes were watering like someone had died. Again he just wanted to collapse, to throw self preservation to the wind and just be still for a moment but one commanding look from Wataru was enough to keep him going.

Aoi wanted to scream at him though; to scream at anyone and everyone, including himself for getting into such a mess. And a mess it was. That was the only way he could describe it. One huge, stupid, reeking mess all because he had fallen prey to the enticing pull of a better life.

He’d wanted life with money, life away from this hellhole of a town and what he got in return was death. Funny how all it made him want was his old life back, cramped and cornered in that tiny little basement with Miyavi in his doorway. Somehow bullets and blood tended to put everything into a better perspective.

Even he knew that he would never get that life back. Everything was different now just like he had realised while walking down the street, away from Miyavi and puffing on his cigarette. Nothing would be the same and while he was able to cling to life, this was all that he was offered. Pain and running.

Though something else became clearer to Aoi as he followed the short silhouette of the PI down the laneway.

Once again he was alive but unlike sitting in that cursed dumpster, this was a more frighteningly real sense of life. The first time he’d been shot at was like a child’s version of what this game had quickly morphed into. And now, alive and dragging his protesting body through the darkened backstreets he had a new thing to live with.

Somehow he had managed to involve Wataru and while Aoi was endlessly grateful for the others help, there was that sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach making him want to double over and retch.

If he went down now then he’d be taking one of his friends with him and no doubt meeting Miyavi in hell.

And that felt worst than any cut, any bullet wound and any sad ending to a movie.

*****

The smell of death was unavoidable. There was no denying it, no blocking it out and Atsushi sure as hell couldn’t mistake it for anything else.

Gun held at the ready, he walked completely silently. One leg crossing over the other, he edged his way along the dark hallway. Toru was pressed against the other side of the corridor, mirroring Atsushi’s actions with such precision that Atsushi wouldn’t have blamed anyone for thinking that Toru wasn’t new to the force. Even he found it hard to remember that this was Toru’s first week.

Talk about a killer of an induction.

While going through the security tapes of the shooting, Atsushi had received a phone call regarding more gunshots. Figuring that they were probably linked, Atsushi and Toru had packed themselves up and headed to the address. It was a shabby building in a part of town that had once been marked for further development. With the way the building look, the pipes hanging off the walls and most of the windows boarded over, it was amazing that it was still standing in the first place.

By now they had a good look at the shooters target and saw that he had been hit. An APB had been put out on all hospitals and medical clinics within an hour radius and already Atsushi’s street team was combing through the neighbourhoods looking for anyone who remembered a man of that description.

Atsushi wasn’t expecting any miracles, but he was hoping for the best. The quicker they could catch up to this guy the easier things would be.

A glance from Toru brought Atsushi back to the present. Nodding his head, he watched as the younger man stepped forward, gripped the door handle and pushed the door open. With the number of deadbolts lining the open edge, both Atsushi and Toru were ready for anything, especially since none of said locks were in place.

The metallic stench of blood was like a physical weight to the both of them and Atsushi didn’t miss the way that Toru balked and covered his nose with his sleeve momentarily. From the door they could see into the complete space; the living room, the small kitchen and what looked like a computer room. It was only a door off to the left that was hidden from view and Toru made quick work of checking it for any life.

He came back, shaking his head and with his gun held at ease while Atsushi stepped into the main part of the room.

The body lay on the floor, face down and sprawled out like he’d been dropped from a great height. Blood seeped out of his side, pooling darkly against the wooden floors. Further rivulets snaked across the floor, coming from the man’s arms and legs. The man’s face was turned to the side, looking out with hollow eyes in the direction of the blood. Atsushi could tell that it had taken the man awhile to bleed out and that when he finally did death had come as somewhat of a release.

“Well, he’s not our hacker,” Toru observed, his voice disturbing the eerie silence. Apart from the same lip ring there was little to no similarities between the two dark-haired men.

“But what’s the bet he was killed with a .44mm slug out of a S&W?” Toru hummed in agreement.

“It was a statement kill,” Atsushi went on. Ignoring the smell, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a glove. He slipped it on as he knelt next to the corpse.

The man had met with a violent end, that was for sure. While the side wound had no doubt been the first hit and the one to kill him, the rest of his body was riddled with holes. Someone had targeted his hands and feet as if nailing him crucifix style to the floor. It had proven to be brutally effective. There were no smudges of blood on the wooden boards; the man had hardly moved from the time that he had first hit the floor.

“He was shot while standing. The rest came from a downward angle once he was already on the ground. The hands, the feet, the knees, they all say something about the shooter more so than the victim’s life.”

“Like what?”

Atsushi shook his head and balanced his weight on his feet. “He is angry,” Atsushi guessed. He didn’t know who the shooter was so all he could do was guess and state the facts. As it was he had no idea who this man even was or why he was dead. Had the shooter mistaken him for the hacker? Or was this person a player in all this that even Atsushi wasn’t aware of? “Either this man had to die as well, or the gunman is trying to send a message. Again we’re looking at something public. Killing like this, hell, the shooter may as well have dragged the man into the centre of the street.”

Reaching out, he took hold of one of the corpse’s hands, moving it ever so slightly to test the moveability of the muscles. “No rigor mortis,” he observed. “Body is room temperature or close to it so algor mortis is over, but the blood is yet to coagulate.”

“Check this out, sir,” Toru called. Atsushi turned his attention onto what the younger man held up. A dirty jacket, blood-covered and torn in the arm; the result of a bullet. “It matches the original target,” Toru said affirmatively.

Atsushi nodded in agreement. So they had found the home of the hacker and no doubt the man on the floor was his friend. The jacket was somewhat of a curse though. It meant the man had changed his clothes which severely narrowed down the effectiveness of the search Atsushi’s department was currently undergoing.

A loud ringing filled the room. Toru jumped – no matter how well he tried to hide it, Atsushi noticed – as Atsushi pulled out his phone. Flicking it open, he didn’t say a word, just waited for the report.

Silence filled the room as the voice on the other end of the line give the detective an address. Hanging up, Atsushi glanced at his partner and stood.

“There have been reports of another shooting. Not too far from here.”

“Related?” Toru asked. He placed the jacket back onto the floor. They still needed to get a photographer in here and then process the scene.

“Most likely. It seems highly suspicious that-” Atsushi’s voice trailed off as his phone rang again. He frowned as he pulled the cell out of his pocket and flipped it back open. This time the voice was more rushed, louder to the point were even Atsushi could hear the echo fill the room.

“Looks like its going to be a busy night,” he said as the cell phone disappeared back into his pocket. Toru shot him a confused look but said nothing, simply falling in behind the detective. They filed out of the room and motioned to those waiting to process the scene.

As they rushed in with large, chunky cameras and boxes of equipment, Atsushi grabbed the arm of the ranking officer and pulled him aside. “This is to remain quiet, you hear me? I want none of this going to the press. As far as the world is concerned nothing happened here.” Locking gazes with the officer, Atsushi allowed himself a moment to glare, fully stating how serious the situation was. “You fuck this up, I take your badge.”

“Yes Sir!” The cop saluted and bowed before walking off on shaky feet.

Atsushi turned, leading them into the elevator. “Is that wise?” Toru finally asked, his voice quiet and low. “I mean, not telling the press. If the shooter wants it to be public…”

A grin spread across Atsushi’s face as the doors closed and the cab began to ascend to ground level. “Not really,” he admitted, “but if public is what he wants then keeping it quiet will grate on his nerves. He’ll be more likely to make a mistake.”

It was a gamble – a huge risk – but with the way this night was turning out, Atsushi was willing to do whatever it took to catch up.

“The precinct is getting flooded with reports of shots and a car crash.” Toru nodded as Atsushi recited the information of his last phone call. Something about that accident made Atsushi nervous. It was like the soft footsteps of a burglar in the night; quiet and deadly and pointing to only one thing.

Or, more precisely, one person.

“And that other place?”

“A stepping stone,” Atsushi said to his partner. “We’re chasing their tail.” They emerged out into the cold night air and headed for the car. “All hell is about to break loose and we need to catch up before this all goes sour.”

*****

**Chapter Eleven preview:**

In movies there was always that guy who went in the opposite direction, or ran up the stairs to drop something onto the gunman from above. Where was he? Where was that hero? That person who, against all odds, would risk everything to bring the crazed gunman down? Who would dash through the crowd and tackle the shooter and allow the poor terrified masses the chance to escape.

In a really sad, twisted way, Aoi gathered that job now fell to him.

*****


	13. Chapter Eleven - Swimming Upstream… like a Fish out of Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeep! This time I didn't forget. Those of you who have me on FB would know that I got sick. Like, really sick. Going to the hospital in a foreign country sort of sick. It was horrible and knocked me down for almost two full weeks, then I had to get my shit together and move countries again. 
> 
> Stressful times, but I'm settled now. So here, have some more bulk chapters!

  
**Chapter Eleven**

Swimming Upstream… like a Fish out of Water

  
*****

  
  
Aoi pushed his way through the frantic crowd. It was like swimming against a current though the fun irony of the situation was quickly lost when Aoi realised that that was exactly what he was doing. His arms swung to and fro, pushing people out of his way as he placed one foot in front of the other, always seeking steady footholds.  
  
He was willingly wading into a sea of fear and terror and fucked if he could really say why.  
  
Logic dictated that he should be fleeing the other way. That like the masses of people who he now struggled against, he should be b-lining for the closest exit of the train station.  
  
But no, instead he was fighting a losing battle to get closer to the shooter. Stupid really. Even if he won against the throbbing mass of panicked individuals he’d end up face to face with a gun which really didn’t seem like an overly fair prize for his tribulations. And with the way his mind was going at the moment, Aoi was hard pressed to even remember how he had gotten to the train station in the first place.  
  
After the attack at Wataru’s office, he had dutifully followed the PI without question. Wataru had saved his life and all Aoi had given him in return was a nice mess to clean up in a now somewhat useless office.  
  
After awhile Wataru had informed Aoi that the strange sound they had heard before the gunman attacked was something of a security measure. Yuusuke had set it up and while Wataru explained its working mechanisms, they failed to make any sense whatsoever to Aoi. The only thing that made any sense at all was that Yuusuke had some sort of crazed, gorilla-warfare booby traps all over the roof in case the day ever came when Wataru would be alone in his office. Alone and a sitting duck without the other man to watch over the surrounding streets.  
  
Good thing too else Aoi was sure that they’d be dead on the floor of that shitty little office by now.  
  
That was one thing that Aoi was starting to work out. Some things did happen like they did in the movies and that was a prime example. The bobby traps. The contingency plans. They were all things that everyday people did and Aoi suddenly felt stupid for disregarding them all the time. Considering how much he knew about movies even he felt like he should have had the foresight to plan some elaborate escape and survival plan, but of all things, he had gathered that that was the least likely to be real.  
  
Not that that was important; not now at least. They had ended up in some dive of a diner, hiding in the bathroom and trying to patch each other up as best as they could. Of course, since they had nothing to work with, the patching job had consisted of cleaning away most of the blood and just looking at the damn wounds and prodding to see if it hurt.  
  
Medics everywhere would have been insulted at the two men’s lack of ideas on what to do in such a situation.  
  
Quick thinking had seen Wataru grab Aoi’s bag before they had run out the door, which Aoi had forgotten all about. So at least they still had the cash and a few personal items that they could fence for money if need be, but neither spoke about that. Somehow Aoi didn’t think that Wataru shared his running and hiding plan and all things considered, Aoi was a little too hesitant to ask for his bag back in order to make his escape.  
  
Neither Aoi nor Wataru had any clue as to what to do as they walked out of that crummy bathroom and tried to act normal. Which, Aoi realised, was a hell of a lot harder to do then one would think. It wasn’t everyday that two blood covered guys came waltzing through or even if it was, they somehow managed to catch the eye of every fool in the room.  
  
While Aoi eyed off the coffee machine with distrust, Wataru plonked himself in a booth and looked at the menu. The need for caffeine was starting to get to Aoi but the barista looked like they were about twelve and the machine obviously hadn’t been cleaned since the little runt had been born.  
  
It was hard to tell if either of them would have actually been game enough to order anything as no sooner had Aoi decided to sell his soul – or health – for a coffee, a news report filled the room. All eyes flicked to the chunky radio sitting on the back bench of the counter and Aoi had felt Wataru appear at his side.  
  
The whole thing just screamed Ruki; or at least that was what Wataru said and Aoi had just nodded.  
  
And so here he was trying to get to the little shit while everyone else possessing a more rational, sane mind was trying to get away from him. Wataru was down the road, looking at the car accident that the news had mentioned and was then going to start searching the back entrances and train tracks in case Ruki slipped out that way. Not that that was overly needed now though, since Aoi could see the feisty forger but he had no way of contacting Wataru for help. Only a time and a rendezvous point.  
  
Aoi swore to himself. He really wasn’t sure why or how he’d been conned into trying to help the little counterfeit artist. Somehow Wataru had managed to convince Aoi that it was the best thing to do at the time and now that Aoi was here, seeing what was happening he had to give Wataru points for persuasion. The PI had managed to make it sound like it would be a hell of a lot easier and a lot less risky and Aoi, stupid as he was at times, had nodded and agreed that it could and should be done.  
  
No one needed to tell Aoi that that was another one of his huge mistakes. Somehow he needed to get his mind into a state that most people could consider normal. No more of this movie referencing and more solid, straight forward thinking. It was that which would keep him alive, not the other way around and for Christs sake, he needed to learn when to keep his mouth closed and when not too.  
  
The moment Wataru had suggested hunting Ruki down by following the news reports would have been the opportune moment for Aoi to speak up. Tell the other man that it was a stupid idea, ask for his bag and move the fuck on.  
  
Instead he had stood there, lost somewhere between dumbfounded and just plain dumb and had agreed that it was a good idea. Sure it was but maybe after hell froze over and the sky became the ground.  
  
The original broadcast had been about a car accident which was, surprisingly, just near the dive of a café they were currently in. By the time Wataru had managed to convince Aoi that the world was coming to an end by thus getting him to agree to helping Ruki, another announcement interrupted them. The train station and there was then no doubt about it being Ruki causing all the fuss. At least not to Wataru and Aoi, feeling like a lost sheep, agreed yet again.  
  
Trust Ruki to go to this damn station. It was all large and open, big, wide spaces and fancy fittings. A circular fountain sat in the middle of the floor, regally sprouting its water into the air and paying no attention to the chaos around it. The same couldn’t be said for the fish though. Not that there were fish in the fountain but whoever designed the place had apparently decided that it would be ‘cool’ and ‘trendy’ to throw in an oversized aquarium that stretched the length of the front wall between the two sets of glass doors.  
  
Sure, it all looked pretty but it really wasn’t practical, especially not in a situation like this. Plus, as paranoid as it was, Aoi could feel the damn fish watching him like they knew something he didn’t. He wouldn’t have put it past them either. Fish creeped him out with their googly eyes and flapping fins. It was a completely irrational fear but he clung to it nonetheless, especially with the way they were all gathered at the front of the glass and peering out like the scene before them was their favourite soap opera.  
  
From his position stuck half way between the door and the end of the seething crowd, Aoi could see a car in the middle of the floor. He didn’t know what had happened but he guessed that either Ruki couldn’t drive or he was going for an all out action movie effect. So far he couldn’t see the little man anywhere but he guessed that he was at least out of the car by now. This suspicion was helped by the fact that a short, blonde haired man with sunglasses and a gun was inspecting the vehicle.  
  
People parted like the red sea around the man and Aoi knew that he was the one after Ruki. He was given a clear view of the assassin, helped by the fact that he was at least two inches taller than the average persons around him and something about the stranger just screamed dangerous.  
  
The assassin was done looking at the car and walked casually towards the middle of the room, holding all the horrifying grace of a movie serial killer. As he stood there he lifted his gun, firing left and right and, Aoi realised, shooting out all the security cameras. It was fucking surreal to see. The man hardly even looked to the sides to locate the damn things. Maybe his gun had a security destruction mode or something cause he shot them out like a fucking pro; Aoi promptly reminded himself that that was actually the case.  
  
People screamed with each gunshot. Glass shattered and fell to the ground like deadly fireworks. It crunched underfoot and got lost in hair and clothes alike. Aoi had never seen such panic in his life. Not even in the shopping mall when his deal had gone sour. Hands covered heads, people cowered under seats and in places, businessmen ran and pushed women or even children over in their desperation to get out.  
  
It was a disgusting display of all that humanity shouldn’t be.  
  
Aoi’s eyes continued to scan the disturbing scene as he shouldered his way through another clump of people. Everyone was going the same way, getting bottlenecked at the doors and pushing and shoving to try and be out into the safely that night offered. There was no order, no chivalry. Just chaos and fear.  
  
That was another thing that movies lied about. Sure, they liked to show the panic and sweep you up in the heat of the moment but the camera always followed the hero. They made you feel for their pain, not that of everyone else around them. Never once did the camera angle in on someone that terrified that they were under a chair and retching up the content of their stomach just like a person off to Aoi’s right.  
  
No movie had ever showed that and Aoi felt just as cheated as he had the in the mall. Even more so as his eyes flicked over the crowd again, watching at they all turned tail and ran.  
  
In movies there was always that guy who went in the opposite direction, or ran up the stairs to drop something onto the gunman from above. Where was he? Where was that hero? That person who, against all odds, would risk everything to bring the crazed gunman down? Who would dash through the crowd and tackle the shooter and allow the poor terrified masses the chance to escape?  
  
In a really sad, twisted way, Aoi gathered that that job now fell to him.  
  
Aoi the hacker. Aoi who had spent the majority of his life in front of a computer while living in a basement. Aoi who had cowered and run away the first time he had been shot at, and the second for that matter.  
  
Aoi the hero.  
  
Even Aoi didn’t think that that had a good ring to it. He sure as hell didn’t feel like a hero; an idiot maybe, but not in the slightest bit heroic.  
  
It was almost funny when he really thought about it. Now that he was living his childhood dream, the title really didn’t seem to suit. Like most young men he’d dreamt of danger and fear and overcoming adversity. Cops and robbers. Gangs and civilians. Heroes and super villains. He’d spent hours submerged in books and movies, manga and computer games wherein his imagination would run wild. He could be anywhere, be anything and do whatever he wanted. And all those dreams pointed to him being in situations like this; where he could prove his worth. Fight against all odds and in an impressive display of gallantry and skill and win the admiration of all his peers.  
  
So far that had hardly been working according to plan.  
  
He’d had his chance to shine, to be that speeding figure of strength and bravery when he’d been shot at earlier that evening. That had been his moment, against the locker and surrounded by a thousand people; he could have shined so brightly.  
  
Instead he had pondered black holes and Disney characters before running for his life, an action which had endangered hundreds and according to the news, severely wounded at least one.  
  
Way to go hero, he told himself. Even his inner voice was harsh and unrelenting, filled with sarcasm and self loathing. He had fucked up big time and he was painfully aware of that fact.  
  
But then again, that was why he was here, wasn’t it? He felt that was the reason though for the life of him he couldn’t work out if that was any better. He was like that idiot in movies and books who fucks up and then fucks up all over again while trying to make amends.  
  
Neither was a pretty thought but thankfully he finally found who he’d been looking for, successfully eliminating the need to think on the subject anymore.  
  
Ruki was piss-bolting through the crowd, shoving people out of the way left, right and fucking centre. The small man’s head bobbed up and down as he went and Aoi noticed the way that Ruki dragged his right leg. His knee didn’t seem to be bending correctly and Aoi knew for sure that it had been fine the last – and first – time that he had met the little man. On top of that, blood was running down Ruki’s face in a steady fucking waterfall that somehow made the kid look even paler.  
  
With each step Ruki took, Aoi could clearly see the concentration reflected in Ruki’s features. The man wasn’t holding up too well and that was obvious.  
  
The other thing that was painfully obvious was the way that the crowed reacted to him. As soon as Ruki got near the screams seemed to intensify, people started scrambling over each other and pulling at clothes and hair alike just to try and get away. The crowed seemed more terrified of Ruki then the gunman himself and while Aoi could partly see the reason, it still struck him as pretty stupid.  
  
Like a caged tiger, Ruki ducked and ran, leaped and hobbled through the crowed. His head constantly dipped out of Aoi’s line of sight as the little man slid under some or dived under someone else’s bag.  
  
Something about the sight made Aoi’s heart lurch. Sure, the shorter man was a pain in the ass – actually, a fucking prick was a much better way of putting it – but still, it wasn’t a pleasant sight to watch. He was being hunted like an animal. Aoi could sympathise with that all too well now and it made him push forward resolvedly.  
  
At one stage Ruki tripped, his lame leg buckling – or maybe something had hit it – and Ruki went over. Aoi held his breath, images of the tiny man getting flattened to death in the stampede assaulting his mind. A shiver ran the length of his spine and he unceremoniously shoved a man to the side as he sought to clear a path.  
  
Time seemed to tick by, signalling the end of eternity before Ruki resurfaced, and when he did, he was a good twenty paces in the other direction and running across a long bench like a trapeze artist. Arms out for balance, he zoomed along passed the thick of the crowd, dodging bullets as he went before jumping off the end and disappearing back into the sea of people.  
  
Ruki reminded Aoi of some nimble video game character, scaling an impossibly high wall with all the grace of a ninja. Well, a wounded ninja, but a ninja nonetheless.  
  
Aoi almost laughed. He probably would have if he hadn’t caught sight of the gunman once again which was, in all truth, enough to shut anyone up on the spot.  
  
The assassin had that creepy ability that they always depicted in movies wherein all that had to do was walk. Ruki was running for his life as fast as his busted leg would carry him and all the shooter was doing was walking. That slow, rolling stride of someone who was confident that their kill was in range and wasn’t going to escape. It gave Aoi the chills and made him double his efforts in trying to get through the crowd.  
  
As Ruki moved the crowd continued to stretch away from him. People pushed and shoved, screamed and scrambled over each other to get away from the shorter man. At least they weren’t stupid, Aoi thought, which wasn’t overly assuring. They recognised Ruki for the dangerous target that he was and damned if any of them were going to stay within spitting range. While self-preserving for the masses, Aoi noted something much more disturbing about their behaviour.  
  
It was leaving Ruki’s back exposed.  
  
With each step the short man took, more and more people moved out of the way. Even when the throng of people had to push back closer to the assassin; all they seemed concerned about was keeping the fuck away from the little counterfeit artist. Slowly but surely a large, wide and open circle formed around the running man and with Ruki dragging his lame leg along the side of that overly stupid aquarium, it was obvious that he had nowhere to go and no chance in hell of making it there even if he did.  
  
The realist in Aoi refused to be silenced as the situation unfolded. Aoi was sure that he could see the smug, satisfied grin on the gunman’s face from here. The way the man’s hand twitched around the gun; the way the arm lifted, slow and steady as if he had all the time in the world. And he did. That was the shitty truth of the matter. The assassin could take as long as he wanted to aim and Ruki sure as hell wasn’t going anywhere or finding anything to hide behind.  
  
Out of habit Aoi started likening it to this movie that he remembered seeing but somewhere mid thought his mind spaced out and the memory faded. The vivid colours and orchestral music of the film disappeared into a strange sort of blackness that moved and pulsed with a life of its own. And then the train station was back, in full colour, surround sound and radiating a sense of overwhelming panic and Aoi was left feeling strange and overly focused.  
  
Fuck the movie. Fuck the scene lingering in the back of his mind. In fact, fuck everything that he had ever thought. All that mattered was the here and now. Life and death in the real world that didn’t come scripted and rehearsed.  
  
Deep down Aoi knew that he had to make a choice and he had to make it quickly. This wasn’t one of those things that he could think about for awhile; besides, that sort of thinking would induce second guessing his actions. Aoi was very persuasive and he was sure that his mind would be able to talk him out of almost anything.  
  
Instead Aoi tried telling himself that maybe this was his shining moment. Perhaps getting shot at in the mall had been a practice run, a trial to see how he would handle it. Sure, he’d hardly been a hero and he really hadn’t improved at all in Wataru’s place. But maybe this was it.  
  
Aoi tried to keep that in mind as he threw caution to the wind, took on the part of the hero and made a dash for the open space between Ruki and the gunman.  
  
It only took him a few long strides, only a few rushed steps before he was there, like a deer in the headlights and staring the assassin down. He wasn’t deluding himself. It was not like he appeared there with a look of bravery plastered all over his face and his eyes clear and determined. Aoi was shaking like a leaf – a leaf in a fucking hurricane – and the only useful thing his mind offered him was the chance to turn and run for his life.  
  
Deciding that that was both useless and cowardly, Aoi sucked his lip ring in between his teeth and kept going. He had started now; there was no real point in stopping.  
  
Feet skidding on the floor, he came to a screeching halt, filling in the open gap and hiding Ruki’s retreating form from sight.  
  
He was there, right fucking there and so close to the gunman that Aoi would have been able to see the colour of his eyes had it not been for the glasses. He could see the stubble on the shorter man’s chin, see the way his chest rose and fell with each breath and some paranoid aspect of Aoi swore that he could hear the other man’s heartbeat.  
  
The assassin looked like Aoi had physically hit him and Aoi imagined his eyes narrowing beneath those dark glasses. In the way that the man took a step back, Aoi’s suspicions were thrown into overload. Was it the same man who had been attacking him earlier, or did the man have a partner?  
  
Whether it was the same man or not, the assassin seemed to have no quims against lowering his gun from the security cameras and aiming it in the general direction of Aoi’s head.  
  
Aoi ducked and forced his eyes to stay open. If he was going to die he’d at least go out with that one little dignity. Making a fist with his right hand, he cradled it in the palm of his left; an action which would give him more strength. Aoi sucked in a deep breath, chewed on his lip ring and hoped to god to see the sun rise as he arched his arm upwards.  
  
The very point of his elbow connected against the side of the aquarium and… stopped.  
  
Nothing.  
  
“Fuck,” he yelled as the glass didn’t budge. Automatically and completely against his better judgement his eyes slid up and locked onto the assassin. The man was grinning like a manic, his gun lowering and levelling with Aoi’s chest and for an instant Aoi thought he had already pulled the trigger.  
  
Bringing his elbow back, Aoi tried again, this time thrusting up with all the might he could muster. Maybe it was just due to how close he was sitting or maybe the noise really was that loud, but Aoi heard the crack of the glass this time. It was so defined, like a triumphant scream above the mad sounds of the crowd that there was no way he could ignore it.  
  
Even so, no water came out and Aoi’s heart sank. The assassin shook his head, chastising Aoi for his idiocy or maybe even his bad luck. Aoi could almost hear the man’s thoughts. ‘That’s what you get when you try and play the hero in real life.’ Oddly, Aoi wanted to agree with him. Maybe bow and try to walk away. No harm done, right.  
  
Somehow he didn’t think that would be overly plausible. The assassin made a clicking sound with his tongue and Aoi was glad he couldn’t see the man’s eyes through the tinted sunglasses. He imagined them to be dark, deep and hollow pools that could eat your soul.  
  
Which meant that it was either brake the damn glass or get shot trying.  
  
With one last swing, Aoi grunted as his elbow broke through the cracking glass. From his crouched position, looking along the front of the tank, it all seemed to happen in slow motion.  
  
A trickle of water started from where his elbow bled against the glass though Aoi couldn’t honestly tell if it was from cracking the aquarium or if it was an old wound from the shrapnel bomb. Then, like the roots of a possessed plant or the spreading of ice across a frozen lake, the crack crept across the expanse of the tank, shattering and letting out little streams all the way to the far end. The aquarium stayed like that, leaking through its little holes and suspended as the water and glass battled. In the tank the fish seemed to know that something was wrong and started flapping their tails and fins as if telling the glass to stay the hell where it was.  
  
Then came the loud roar of smashing glass and gushing water, accentuated with the discharge of the assassin’s gun.  
  
Aoi fell, pain shooting though his body as the water exploded over his head. His mind told him he’d been shot. That all his attempts had been for nothing and that he was going to die in a pool of stagnant fish water all for some little brat who wouldn’t make him a passport.  
  
He had never thought about how he would die. It wasn’t something that really entered into the mind of a twenty-four year old computer hacker. Even so, on the scale of all ways to go, he had never pictured it to be like this. Old age, sure, and he wouldn’t deny the likelihood of lung cancer, but this seemed pretty lame.  
  
As Aoi’s mind wandered, fleeing from the pain and hell, the stench of the water, his eyes locked onto the scene before him. The smaller assassin had been completely bowled over by the force of the released water. It was a damn sizable fish tank so it was no real surprise. From the look of it, the gunman had hit the ground pretty hard and wasn’t fairing much better than Aoi was. Waterlogged and most likely stunned, the shooter had dropped his gun and was instead trying to cover his eyes as if it was the lights that had so assaulted him.  
  
The tingling feeling of accomplishment crept its way into Aoi, taking over his mind and threatening to pull his lips into a smile despite the pain he felt. As for that – the pain – it was skull splitting though Aoi was sure it could have been worse. All around him the bodies of little fish thrashed against the floor as they suffocated and Aoi was almost sure that he’d rather bleed out then go that way.  
  
Maybe it was his need to assure himself of that decision or just to make sure he actually realised what he had done, but either way Aoi found himself focusing in on one of those dying fish. It was just near his head, close enough that he almost went cross-eyed while looking at it and for better or worse, it was looking right back at him.  
  
The fish flopped about spasmodically and Aoi tried to convince himself that it was dancing, not dying. A happy, dancing fish yet no matter how persuasive Aoi was, he couldn’t lie to himself. That fish wasn’t happy; it may have been dancing but it was a dance of death and nothing more. There was no happiness in the way that it slapped its tail against the floor and it sure as hell wasn’t singing a pop song each time it opened its mouth.  
  
Aoi’s eyes remained on it the entire time, feeling somewhat guilty as the poor thing withered on the ground. As disturbing as it was, Aoi came to the realization that he had just annihilated an entire colony of fish in one impulsive action.  
  
Looking at the fish seemed to put everything into place. The great circle of life, cause and effect, actions and consequences. Maybe that was what it was like to be a hero. No matter what you did you always screwed something up a little further down the street. The butterfly effect. Aoi had successfully managed to buy Ruki some time, but the cost had been high, and not just to the fish population.  
  
Sacrifice. That’s what it was. Something lives so something else has to die. Ruki lived and was no doubt still running like hell and in return Aoi got to die surrounded by his own victims.  
  
The thought made Aoi unnaturally angry. While it had been his own free will that had seen him so foolishly jump in between the assassin and the counterfeit artist, it hardly seemed fair that he had to die for the little shit. That was the long and short of it. What the hell had Ruki done to deserve Aoi’s selfless act? The one meeting that they had shared hadn’t been the most pleasant of experiences for either of them, especially for Aoi. Despite the current trend, he really didn’t appreciate having a gun shoved in his face, nor did he like the way the shorter man had spoken to him.  
  
Yet here he was, wet and on the floor, abandoned and no doubt clouding the escaped water red. And of course Ruki was nowhere to be seen. There was none of that stuff that they showed in the films. Where the damsel in distress – for that was what Ruki was – came running back to help the gallant hero. No, Ruki had booked it out of there or was still trying to fight through the crowd and hadn’t even given a damn about Aoi’s sacrifice. He was probably too busy bitching about why his shoes were getting wet.  
  
Not like it really mattered though. On the off chance that Ruki had come rushing back to help Aoi, a bullet wound through the stomach wasn’t a good sign. Besides, Aoi would have felt inclined to yell at the little man and tell him to run, to save himself and forget about Aoi. At least, that is how the hero always acted.  
  
Resigned to his fate despite his bitterness, Aoi just focused his attention on that little fish that was flipping out in front of his face.  
  
_‘Selfish prick. Get up.’_  
  
Aoi blinked and looked at the fish a little closer. His eyes blurred as he attempted to hold it in his focus.  
  
It was official, Aoi was loosing his mind. At least he had a damn good shot at that insanity plea once all this was over; provided he was still alive. If a talking fish wasn’t a ticket to the psychological asylum than Aoi sure as hell didn’t know what would be.  
  
The fish returned the look, all serious and pissed off as it gasped. Its gills were starting to discolour and if possible the already enormous eyes were getting bigger. Aoi had the horrid flash of its eyes expanding so much that they would pop like they did in the sci-fi movies. It really wasn’t a pretty sight not to mention that it smelt terrible.  
  
The fish’s mouth moved again and Aoi heard the words clear as day.  
  
_‘You’re not shot, you fucking moron. Get up.’_  
  
Aoi blinked at the fish again, staring into its huge, bulging eyes and suddenly understood. He hadn’t been shot. The assassin must have fired his gun just as the water hit him, causing the bullet to shoot off course. He wasn’t dying, wasn’t bleeding all over the floor.  
  
Nothing could describe the way such realization felt. It was a relief and yet a let down at the same time. Not that he wanted to die, especially not here and now, but it meant he’d just spent the last few minutes thinking about it all for no good reason whatsoever.  
  
The way the fish looked at him made Aoi feel stupid and it wasn’t for the obvious reasons. Sure, having a fish talk to you while you lay in a puddle of water in the middle of a train station was weird, but there was something else about that moment that was just off. The fish was accusing him, regarding Aoi like a perverted drama queen. Aoi had just killed the little goldfish and all his fishy friends and yet there Aoi was throwing a fit about dying himself. Aoi gathered that the fish felt harshly done by and in a way Aoi didn’t blame it.  
  
Rolling onto his stomach, Aoi struggled to pull himself into a kneeling position and failed somewhat miserably. He ended up trapped between lying down and holding himself up with his hands and it was through sheer willpower that he was able to support himself just with his right arm while his left went searching. He patted over his stomach, his chest and his sides, searching for any bullet wounds or dangerously large patches of blood. While he had stupid faith in the talking fish, one couldn’t be sure until they checked.  
  
“Ummm, thanks,” Aoi muttered as he rested on his hands and knees. He was talking to a fish! Years of therapy wouldn’t be enough to rectify this situation. “And erm… sorry about the erm, tank and all, and umm, yeah…” His sentence trailed off as he struggled to find the right words. What were you meant to say when you had just obliterated an entire community? Plus Aoi got the feeling that the fish wasn’t really listening to him anyway.  
  
Though the way the assassin was struggling to get up suggested that maybe he was and not only that, the gunman was pissed and wanted Aoi to shut up.  
  
Forgetting about the fish and its hundreds of flapping, dead or dying friends, Aoi chewed on his lip ring and make the conscious decision to stop being a drama queen and get the fuck up.  
  
Aoi slipped as he stood. His brain was doing flip-flops and his limbs didn’t seem to be functioning much better. Water was everywhere. It had fanned out over the majority of the floor and hung in pools where the cement wasn’t entirely flat. It was times like these that the shitty workmanship of builders were clearly obvious and Aoi almost hoped that the city would have something to say about it come morning.  
  
To his right, the assassin was groaning and slowly trying to roll to his feet. His gun was a little off to the left, obviously having been flung out of his hands when the water hit. Clarity was returning to his actions all too quickly and as much as Aoi’s mind told him to run, something stopped him. It didn’t seem overly smart turning his back to the assassin and he didn’t like the idea of getting shot in the back anymore than getting shot in the first place. On top of that, he wasn’t willing to go running at the guy and risk having to take him on hand to hand and his chances of getting the gun further away from the shooter were slim to none.  
  
There was really no other choice left.  
  
With a whispered apology, Aoi reached down, scooped up the large dying goldfish he’d been talking to and pegged it at the assassins head. The fish flew through the air with all the comic grace of a bad movie or amusing manga and, true to aim, slapped wetly into the gunman’s forehead.  
  
Aoi watched long enough to see the man stunned and fall back to the floor with a slippery splash. Not needing to see anymore, Aoi flicked a strand of seaweed off his shoulder and wasted no time in turning around and running. It was hard going across the slippery surface and Aoi oddly wondered how many of those little yellow signs the cleaners would need to put up later on.  
  
Trying to ignore the randomness of his panicked thoughts, Aoi scoured the crowd, attempting to pick Ruki out of the frantic mass. The explosion of the aquarium seemed to have set people off anew and they fought with renewed vigour to get to the door. But there, just off to the side of it all was a tangled mop of coloured dreadlocks on a short body that moved with a limp. Aoi switched directions mid step and sprinted up towards the little man.  
  
Running up behind Ruki, Aoi grabbed the smaller man by the waist and yanked him off balance in one swift movement. He had already figured that it would be easier to get the man to come with him if Aoi just didn’t give Ruki a choice in the matter.  
  
It was even easier to do once Ruki’s bunged leg gave out and Aoi found that he almost had to carry the smaller body as Ruki crashed into him. Ruki yelped, maybe in surprise or perhaps in pain, but Aoi didn’t spare the second it would take to care. Instead he dragged the man to the side, shouldered open the staff entrance to a ticketing booth and threw Ruki in the general direction of the floor. No matter what he did it was pretty much guaranteed that Ruki would yell something incomprehensible at him so he may as well give the punk good reason to.  
  
Closing the door behind him, Aoi turned in time to see Ruki struggled to pull himself back onto his feet. The little man’s leg was held out straight, apparently not really able to support him at all and Aoi, harsh as it was, thanked the gods for small mercies.  
  
“The fuck?” came out of the other’s mouth, heralding some of the first words that Aoi actually understood. “Fucks wrong wit’ ya?”  
  
Grabbing Ruki, Aoi pushed him back down by half straddling the smaller man’s legs and clamped his hand over the other’s mouth. They landed in a heap against the wall, Aoi feeling a hiss of pain expelled against his hand as Ruki’s leg was crushed. Aoi didn’t care; he didn’t have the time or the patience, or fuck, even the want to care. When it all came bubbling right on down to it, he owed the little man nothing and yet he’d just stupidly thrown himself directly into the line of fire and fucked if Aoi could work out why.  
  
The absolute last thing he wanted or needed was the feisty little shit to start yelling at him and alert the gunman ‘cause Aoi was all out of ideas and his new found reserve of bravery was running on dry.  
  
Half expecting a bite or something else just as childish, Aoi raised his fingers to his lips, trying to hush the man. Even so, Ruki still thrashed against him, apparently not half as weak at Aoi would have assumed and not at all liking being held in such a position. Aoi answered by shifted his weight further onto the man’s legs and trapping him.  
  
“Shhh,” Aoi hissed out. “He is just outside.” As if proving his point, Aoi lifted his eyes up to a security screen displaying outside the ticketing office. The assassin was there, his gun in hand and looking at the crowd. The man was searching for them and Aoi felt himself hold his breath even as Ruki thankfully stilled and nodded.  
  
Ruki’s unnaturally cold eyes lifted up and Aoi felt them locking onto his face. He tried to avoid the gaze for as long a possible before he felt as if Ruki’s gaze was blistering his cheek. Swallowing and drawing up as much courage as he could, Aoi turned his head and let his eyes find the others.  
  
He shivered at what he saw there. Again he felt like he was drowning only this time he was in icy water with the surface frozen above him, taking away all chances of escape.  
  
Ruki seemed to be one of those people who could talk with their eyes. In full damn sentences as well and unlike his speech, Aoi could actually understand that look. The main thing in it at the moment was the question Aoi knew he would soon face; who he was and what the hell he was doing helping. Mixed in with that was confusion, pain and some of the strongest determination Aoi had ever seen.  
  
Feeling overly exposed and open while looking into those eyes, Aoi once again turned his attention onto the monitor. The assassin seemed to have regained his bearings and was searching the crowd intently and Aoi couldn’t help but wonder for who. Was Ruki still the only target or had Aoi’s little stunt with the fish tank bumped him up on the man’s hit list?  
  
The way the gunman’s head moved from side to side was proof enough to Aoi that the man hadn’t seen where they had went. Ducking into the office had been a gamble – a huge one – and from the moment Aoi had grabbed Ruki, he’d been praying that the odds would be in his favour. It wouldn’t do well to be caught in a small space with that hitman standing in the only door. Though apparently they had managed to get in undetected. Now all that remained was the hope that the man wouldn’t think of checking in there and would instead continue to search the crowds.  
  
And then the man was looking straight at him. At least, that was what it felt like while looking at the screen. The dark sunglasses prevented Aoi from seeing his eyes and for once Aoi was eternally grateful. They were a pair of eyes that Aoi never wanted to see; he had the feeling that if he ever did meet gazes with that man, one of them would be frozen in place and would wind up dead and Aoi sure as hell wouldn’t place bets on the assassin falling first.  
  
The arm lifted again, all slow and meaningful and there was a flash of light at the end of his gun. The gunshot echoed around the room, the noise seeping in under the door and making Aoi cringe. The screen went black. Aoi had almost been hoping that the assassin, in his stunned, waterlogged state, would have forgotten to keep shooting out the cameras. Would have made keeping track of him a hell of a lot easier.  
  
Both men froze for a moment, trapped in that tiny grain of sand that stood between terror and hope, bravery and cowardliness. Aoi’s mind raced, speeding out of control till he was sure that it would damn well jump straight out of his head and run away. Apparently his brain was smart though Aoi had no clue where it would run to. The only way out was the door and for all they knew the assassin’s hand was on the handle, ready to yank it open.  
  
It was only then that Aoi realised that a pair of small, gloved and yet still cold hands were resting on his hips. For better or worse, Aoi’s eyes flicked from the screen and back down to Ruki.  
  
There was something else in those strange eyes. Something that seemed to try and appeal to Aoi’s kinder side; Ruki was petrified and for once it was plainly easy to see.  
  
Aoi vaguely wondered if Ruki was looking at him as a potential saviour or a human shield and that thought more than killed the almost amiable moment.  
  
“I don’t have time to explain,” Aoi said. He tried to sound confident but with Ruki looking at him like that he stood no chance at all. “My name is Aoi and I’m a friend of Wataru’s. He’s been – we’ve been – looking for you and we have a safe meeting place.” Aoi peeled himself off Ruki, finally letting go of the other man’s mouth. Despite the scared look in the other’s eyes, Aoi braced himself for a good yelling as he pulled himself to his feet and opened his mouth before Ruki could his. “I can take you there. You just have to follow me.”  
  
Outside a number of gunshots caused them both to jump and Aoi was sure that his eyes had expanded to be just as huge as Ruki’s. He gathered that the assassin was shooting out the rest of the security cameras; or maybe he was aiming for the crowd, trying to get them to break in hopes of revealing his targets. It was a horrible feeling to be so trapped, waiting and almost expecting that door to rattle open at any moment.  
  
He wanted to ask if the other would be all right to walk but thought better of it. From what little he’d seen of Ruki, the short man would probably take offence at a question like that and see it as Aoi attacking a weakness. Ruki struck him as one of those people that didn’t overly accept help and even if he had to ask for it, it would be done begrudgingly.  
  
Aoi also thought it best not to draw attention to his severe lack of escape plans. Now that they were hidden, he had no clue where to go or how to get out without the assassin seeing them. However, he didn’t mention that for his own sake. Ruki would have a field day with something like that and Aoi didn’t much feel like having to hear about it for the rest of the night. He’d just have to wing it, hope for the best and pray that Ruki didn’t realise that Aoi was making it up on the spot.  
  
And so, with his heart pounding in his chest, Aoi extended his hand down to the little man and forced himself not to look away. Act confident and no one will ever know otherwise. That was Aoi’s motto but he was starting to suspect that Ruki was like a hound; he could smell fear and confidence a mile away and at the moment, Aoi was reeking of one and one only.  
  
Aoi wasn’t so sure if it was good or bad that Ruki finally reached up and took his hand, but either way, Aoi was sure that this was just like that little black hole that had started it all. This was a moment he wouldn’t forget and that would no doubt change his life forever; for better or worse.  
  


*****

**Chapter Twelve preview:**

  
  
“It was an open attack,” Toru eventually said. “There are countless windows, fire escapes; hidey-hole’s that they could have shot from and yet the attacker took it to the street, face to face. Either they’re not that bright or they wanted it to go down in the open.” The young officer’s eyes studied the surrounding buildings with interest as he rocked back and forth on his toes.  
  
Atsushi’s mind raced at the few words. There was something off with them, something that wasn’t quite hitting the nail on the head. “No,” he said, drawing Toru’s attention back to him. “This wasn’t open, it was… public.”  
  


*****


	14. Chapter Twelve - Hell hath no Fury… in a Building of Fire and Ash

**Chapter Twelve**  
Chapter Twelve - Hell hath no Fury… in a Building of Fire and Ash

  
*****

  
There was only one car.  
  
Atsushi stood in the middle of the street, highlighted by the surrounding red neon lights and with his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. His gaze trailed down the street before he swivelled around and looked back the other way. Finally his eyes settled back on the smashed taxi.  
  
There was only one car.  
  
This was a major problem to Atsushi for no doubt obvious reasons. How could there be a head on collision with only one car?  
  
It was a stupid question and Atsushi knew the obvious answer – you couldn’t – just as he knew that one of the cars must have been either taken or driven away. But to where and by who?  
  
What little witnesses there were didn’t seem at all eager to talk to the cops. This was a bad part of town, one that most people avoid and those who frequented the area were only there for one or two reasons. Drugs and prostitution, both of which were on the hit list of small time beat cops. Toru was doing his best to convince people to tell him what happened and that no, he and Atsushi weren’t there to arrest them for their misdemeanours but even his normally winning smile seemed to be falling short.  
  
That left Atsushi with the crime scene itself. A ruined car, a bunch of bullet casings, a few spots of blood and one very dead taxi driver.  
  
It wasn’t a pretty sight. From what little Atsushi had to go on, it must have been a hellish scene to witness. Even just the way the driver had died, with his legs crushed in and his head split open against the side window looked like something out of a horror game.  
  
Atsushi closed his eyes and let his mind wander. Processing scenes like this always worked better if he wasn’t focusing on them. Staring helped no one and it seemed the longer you looked at something the more it didn’t make sense.  
  
It was like he was suddenly in the scene – a fly on the wall – watching as it all came about. The taxi was rammed, that was easy to see, and the impact had killed the driver. His head had smashed to the side and collided with the shattering window. The glass had acted like a knife and ripped open his face from the forehead to his chin. Grisly really. The car would have spun; both cars would have rebounded out of control at the force of the hit.  
  
Atsushi walked around the scene slowly, his eyes somewhere between open and squinted closed.  
  
He tried to picture why the taxi had been hit. Who was in it that it was so important to stop them? And yet that provoked another question entirely. If you are going to ram a car with such force and speed that the impact kills, why not aim for the person you actually want dead?  
  
As predictable as it was, Atsushi was sure he already knew the answer to that. There was no style, no flare and no shock factor in killing someone like that. Not if you have been hired to do a professional job with specific regulations…  
  
All too suddenly Atsushi’s mind was back on the crash, imagining the car finally coming to a stop and Ruki got out of the taxi.  
  
Atsushi’s eyes flew open, the dark orbs locking onto a nearby tire mark on the bitumen and it all made painful sense.  
  
_Ruki._  
  
“No ones talking,” Toru said as he came up on Atsushi’s right. The detective pulled a disgruntled face and continued to stare at the bonnet of the smashed taxi.  
  
“They fought up on here,” he said, ignoring Toru’s rather defective statement. Atsushi hadn’t really expected the ‘outstanding citizens’ of this area to be much help anyway. That left them at square one and with a hell of a lot of basic investigation work to do.  
  
“How can you tell?”  
  
Atsushi stood back and let Toru move in closer. “Look at the glass. It’s been disturbed and crushed, not just smashed.” Toru nodded at the information, a small humming noise forming in the back of his throat to show that he obviously saw what Atsushi was pointing out and also agreed.  
  
“What do you make of it all?” He regarded his younger partner with interest, watching at Toru’s mind seemed to just absorb the details of the car. Toru visibly sighed as his eyes fell on the corpse in the driver’s seat before straightening and casting his gaze around the scene once again. He seemed to be thinking his answer through, taking time to process all that he could see and maybe even predict what he couldn’t. Yet again Atsushi was impressed with the talent the younger man displayed. Toru seemed skilled and learnt far beyond his years and experience which was both a great asset and yet was somehow alarming to the detective.  
  
“It was an open attack,” Toru eventually said. “There are countless windows, fire escapes; hidey-hole’s that they could have shot from and yet the attacker took it to the street, face to face. Either they’re not that bright or they wanted it to go down like that.” The young officer’s eyes studied the surrounding buildings with interest as he rocked back and forth on his toes. Atsushi’s mind raced at the few words. There was something off with them, something that wasn’t quite hitting the nail on the head.  
  
“No,” he said, drawing Toru’s attention back to him. “This wasn’t open, it was… public.”  
  
Toru instantly stiffened, his eyes lighting up as recognition hit him. Atsushi was impressed with the way the younger man’s mind worked, especially how quickly he was able to keep up with Atsushi’s train of thought.  
  
“Same hitman?” Toru instantly frowned and Atsushi would have sworn that he could see the cogs in the younger man’s mind turning. “Can’t be. Timelines too close for all three shootings to be the same person.”  
  
Atsushi raised an eyebrow at his partner’s words, encouraging him to elaborate. Toru drew in a deep breath and ran the tip of his thumb nail backwards and forwards over his bottom lip a few times before continuing.  
  
“The body that we found – the accomplice of the hacker – was too… fresh. He was a recent kill which, considering he was targeted by the same shooter, puts the gunman in the area across town.  
  
“The office shooting that was called in before this. Highly probable that it is unrelated but all things considered… I think it would be stupid if we ruled it out. Maybe our assassin tracked the hacker there and went for round two which means that neither could be here. As said, time line is far too close for the same gunman to be in both spots.”  
  
Atsushi pondered the remark for awhile. Toru was right although Atsushi had already come to that conclusion. The mall shooter and the dead accomplice of the suspected hacker were one in the same. Same style, same ballistics,  
  
“You’re right,” he finally said. Despite his inner questions his voice remained even and full of conviction. “Partners. They work the same, their contract is the same but there are enough differences to set them apart.”  
  
“Same contract? So this was the same target as at the mall. But the timeline…” The frown that crossed Toru’s face was nothing sort of baffled and Atsushi almost felt sorry for the guy. The rookie cop was doing as best he could, especially considering that Atsushi wasn’t exactly giving the kid anything helpful. Atsushi still hadn’t told Toru about his suspicions surrounding Ruki and as much as he was impressed by the younger cop, he doubted that he ever would. Ruki’s identity was a secret that only the short punk and Atsushi shared and Atsushi was willing to keep it just that way.  
  
“No, different targets, but same contract.” Toru looked about ready to question the statement when the phone in Atsushi’s pocket burst into life again. Atsushi fished it out and hit the receive button. Pressing it to his ear, the detective turned and started pacing as he listened. Other than that, no expression crossed his face as the desk officer filled him in.  
  
“Two things,” Atsushi said, glancing at Toru as he dropped the phone back into his pocket. “The crime scene unit has finished looking over the office shootout. Bullets match those found at the mall so you were right. It is our gunman and the hacker.” With a jerk of his head, Atsushi motioned Toru to follow him back to the car. He set a brisk pace which Toru easily matched as he continued talking. “No bodies so they are both still on the go. Reports say that the place was ripped apart with a shrapnel bomb; no doubt that we are dealing with professionals.”  
  
As they reached the car, Atsushi stopped mid pace and changed his direction, allowing Toru to take the drivers seat. Letting the kid drive would give Atsushi a moment to get some things together for where they were going, plus he knew how much the younger man liked to take control of the car.  
  
“And the other?” Toru questioned as he climbed into the car and adjusted the seat slightly.  
  
“I know where the second car is.”  
  


******

  
  
Ruki looked at Wataru as if the PI had grown into a giant over night. Wataru’s normally composed features were set into a deep frown that, mixed with his unruly hair, gave him an almost feral appearance. It didn’t help that his clothes were blood splattered and torn and that he had a rather nasty looking cut running from somewhere behind his ear and down over his throat before disappearing under his black and white business shirt.  
  
“Hella happened t’ya?” Ruki asked.  
  
Aoi had led him away from the train station, an act that Ruki was still somewhat unsure about, especially since the taller man’s idea of a getaway plan was open the door, close their eyes and run for all they were worth. Through some miracle it had actually worked and Ruki was still trying to process how such a mindless act had seen them escape the clutches of the assassin but doing so hurt his head. As pathetic as it sounded, he had enough to worry about with the way his leg burned and buckled with each step to pay any attention to the more intellectual details of the running plan.  
  
In all honestly he was still unsure about the rationale behind leaving the train station and disappearing further into the city. It went against his escape the area plan and meant that all he had gone through just to get to the bloody station in the first place had officially been for nothing. Though, he reminded himself, it wasn’t like he’d be able to walk through there and jump on a train given his current condition. That was if he was able to get past the assassin anyway which Ruki didn’t much like his chances of. He may have possessed a high sense of worth but the realist in him admitted that the man was a hell of a lot stronger than he was. And better prepared.  
  
And so Ruki had followed the strange man through a few backstreets, twisting and turning down so many corners that he was sure Aoi was lost until they came to a burnt out husk of a building. It hardly looked like it could stand on its foundations and Ruki was getting ready to bolt when he spied Wataru coming up the other end of the street.  
  
Aoi hadn’t waited for the PI to catch up and had instead ushered Ruki through the door, claiming something about getting out of sight as soon as possible and the three of them met in what used to be a public bathroom.  
  
It was a shitty building and however the fuck the fire had started made no never mind. All that mattered was that it was almost hollowed out and to the point where Ruki couldn’t even hazard a guess as what it used to be.  
  
Ruki couldn’t help but feel like a sitting duck in there. Cowering amid the ashes of someone else’s fate and waiting for death to come knocking. He knew professional killers like he knew the back of his hand; it wouldn’t take that blonde assassin long to track down where Ruki had disappeared to. The longer he stayed in one place, no matter how odd seeming, the higher his chances were of getting caught and probably skinned alive.  
  
“Could say the same to you,” Wataru replied. Under any normal circumstances Ruki knew he would have accompanied that with a chuckle and a wink or something of the sort. But not tonight. The PI looked stressed and tired and as downright close to collapsing as Ruki felt.  
  
Ruki shot him a questioning look but didn’t bother to repeat his question. For his part, Ruki’s mysterious saviour stood in the background, leaning lazily against a crumbling sink with his arms folded over his chest. Looking between the two Ruki almost felt like he was there facing a damn firing squad.  
  
“What the hell is going on?” Wataru’s voice sounded like sharp gravel and even Ruki flinched at the unexpected question.  
  
“Huh?” he asked. Something about this situation wasn’t feeling so good and Ruki had flashes of being chained to Atsushi’s damn interview desk. That was no pretty feeling no matter what way you looked at it.  
  
“Someone threw a fucking shrapnel bomb into my office,” Wataru ground out.  
  
Ruki shrugged, his eyes blinking slightly at the unexpected bit of information. “Ay, that ain’t got nothin’ ta’do with me,” he protested, “ask that fuckup standin’ next ta’ya. Tried t’threaten me to do ‘im a passport.” Maybe it was harsh but Ruki wasn’t there to be making friends. Aoi may have helped him with the assassin but that didn’t change anything; the taller man had still tried to intimidate him and Ruki still wasn’t doing his damn passport.  
  
Ruki watched as Wataru shot a rather amused look in the stranger’s direction. Apparently whatever the taller man had told the PI didn’t include his little attempt at scare tactics.  
  
“You did what?”  
  
The taller man shrugged and lifted his eyebrows; apparently he wasn’t impressed at the accusation. “You told me to deal with his attitude. So I did.” Aoi shrugged again and glared straight back at Ruki. It caught Ruki off guard but he refused to lower his gaze first. “But hey, then the little shit pulled a gun on me; you didn’t warn me that he was fucking trigger happy.”  
  
“Still,” Ruki interjected, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning his weight back on his left foot. “This ain’t got nothin’ ta’do with me.”  
  
“Yuusuke’s missing.” The way Wataru said the words could have tricked anyone into believing that they meant nothing to him, that he was talking about his friend’s parent’s pet dog. But Ruki could see it reflected in his eyes. That twinge of panic and pain that Wataru fought to hide so well. “And considering he was working your case, it now has everything to do with you.”  
  
Ruki said the only thing he could in such an instance; “fuck!” ‘Sorry’ really didn’t seem to hack it, especially not with Wataru shut up the way he was and it was fucking pointless asking what had happened to him. If Wataru knew that he wouldn’t be here, dragging that darkhaired idiot around with him and demanding answers.  
  
“I want some answers Ruki.” Again Wataru’s voice was flat and devoid of all emotion but you’d have to be deaf and blind not to notice the hidden threat lingering the words and actions of the man. Hell, even Wataru’s stupid companion took a step backwards and had the decency to look stunned.  
  
“I ain’t got nothin’ ya don’t already know.” Ruki raised his hands to either side of his head and took a step back. He shook his head for effect and thanked the gods that he was a great liar.  
  
“Bullshit.”  
  
Ruki plastered on his best pleading face and gave his hands a slight shake. “Wataru, I ain’t-”  
  
“Cut the fucking shit, Ruki,” Wataru hissed. The PI took a dangerous step closer and Ruki back peddled some more. He tried to focus on looking innocent and scared despite how much his fiery temper rose at being thus cornered.  
  
Wataru’s eyes were dark and narrowed, the man’s jaw set into a tight line as he approached. “What are you running from, Ruki? Hmm?” Wataru took another step and Ruki felt his back hit the wall. “Why pack up and leave?”  
  
“Did ya ask ‘im what’s he’s runnin’ from?” Ruki shot back, jabbing his chin in Aoi’s general direction.  
  
Wataru didn’t even blink. “It wasn’t his case that saw Yuusuke disappear off the face of the earth.” Another step closer and Ruki was starting to feel caged in. The heat radiating out of Wataru’s eyes was enough to scorch his skin and while Ruki outright refused to break eye contact, he was somewhat scared that they may just liquefy in his head. “He wasn’t the one who complained of someone watching him for days. _He_ didn’t drive a fucking car into a train station!”  
  
“Fell ‘sleep at t’wheel,” Ruki said sarcastically and with a shrug. Wataru gave Ruki that look that said he wasn’t buying his bullshit and for once in his life when Ruki sighed, it was in legitimate defeat. “Someone’s tryin’ t’kill me.”  
  
“Wanna try telling me something I haven’t already worked out?” Well damn, Ruki thought as Wataru’s gaze cut deep into his. Any hope he had of being able to avoid this situation was quickly fleeting.  
  
“Don’t know wha’ ya know,” Ruki said as a way of side stepping the questioning gaze.  
  
“Ruki.” It was just a word, just his name but fucked if Ruki didn’t feel like he was a kid getting told off by his parents. He cast his eyes around the room, looking at Wataru, at where they were and at the stranger who’d come seeking a passport. Was this all for him, so that he could get a passport and run the fuck away from whatever ghosts he had hidden in his past?  
  
Watching Aoi, Ruki quickly banished that thought. The man seemed almost uninterested as he stood there, leaning against that sink like he owned the place. A king of rubble and ash. Suited him in a weird way.  
  
Ruki huffed indigently. This was getting him nowhere and he knew it. Wataru had always had that thing that made you want to spill your soul even if he didn’t give you a choice. And there never was a choice with Wataru. If he wanted to know, you told no matter how much you tried to sidestep it. Ruki gathered that it had something to do with the fact that he used to be a cop. Sneaky, conniving bastards that they were.  
  
“You want your explanation,” Ruki said, his voice clear and his words crisp and proper. He saw Wataru’s head snap up in surprise at the change and noted the slight nod that Aoi gave; so the taller man had picked up on Ruki’s slip up back at the apartment.  
  
Flicking his jacket off, Ruki tossed it over the sink and starting working at the buttons of his shirt. He could see the odd looks the other two were shooting him and the way that they glanced at each other out of the corner of their eyes. They’d been expecting a verbal explanation, not one that involved Ruki taking his shirt off. Tough luck for them though, cause this was the best way to get his point across anyway.  
  
He didn’t undo all the buttons, just enough so that he could flip the top of his shirt down over his shoulders.  
  
Dark lines and semi-coloured patterns swirled over his shoulders and down his arms. The main element of the design consisted of a thick band around each upper arm that gave life to a number of long, dark points that stretched down his arms to just above his elbows. The rest paled in comparison to the simplicity of the dark lines and most looked as if they weren’t even close to being finished.  
  
Even so, each tattoo was intricate and special, complex beyond normal comprehension and having a meaning that only he could decode. It was a testimony to his life – or at least to what his life used to be – and clearly marked his heritage to any outsider unlucky enough to behold their full glory.  
  
It wasn’t typical Yakuza but then Ruki was in no way typical anyway.  
  
“Are they?” it was Aoi who asked it – Wataru would never show such idiocy – and Ruki merely rolled his eyes in response. No, they weren’t what they looked like. He just thought the tattoos were cool… honestly, how Aoi had managed to survive so long with such a dim-witted mind was a mystery to Ruki.  
  
“Two years ago a Yakuza oyabun was murdered by his most trusted shateigashira. I was eighteen at the time, and that dead man… was my father.” Ruki paused for a moment, letting his words sink in. Wataru seemed to be keeping track of it all just fine – as if the man already had his sneaking suspicions about Ruki all along – while the other, Aoi, looked more or less stunned dumb. It was somewhat of a blessing and Ruki wondering if Aoi was surprised at just who Ruki was or more his age. Ruki sure as hell didn’t act like he was only twenty years old.  
  
Ignoring them both, Ruki pressed ahead with his explanation. It actually felt good telling someone all of this. He only wished that it was just Wataru who was hearing it. The man may have his scary side, but at least Ruki could trust him which was more than he could say about Aoi.  
  
“A man named Suzuki Akira – also goes by the name of Reita – killed him and has been hunting me ever since to ‘eliminate all evidence’.” He spat the last few words out with disgust, his eyes never once locking with either of the two men.  
  
And just like that all the secrecy that he had surrounded himself with was gone. He felt exposed, naked as he stood there waiting for some form of response from the two men.  
  
He knew that at least Wataru would know about the killings. If Ruki had Wataru’s past correct then the man would have been kicked out of the police squad about five months before the killings; but still, almost every person alive at that time knew about them. They had been some of the most violent murders the city had ever seen and had sparked a chain reaction that had touched every gang fraction.  
  
For three whole weeks the streets were a battlefield. Countless people lost their lives, both gang members and civilians and even the small division of Triads had gotten involved and god knew how much the Chinese tried to stay out of Yakuza affairs.  
  
Amidst all the confusion, Ruki had made his escape. It hadn’t gotten him far – not with the streets running red with blood – but instead he had found the perfect way to disappear.  
  
He’d worked out quickly that he couldn’t go to another Yakuza clan. That would be as good as handing himself over to Reita wrapped in a bow. Not that the other families would hand him back; no they would use him for their own means. Like a gambling chip, Ruki had found himself on the hot list of anyone who was anyone.  
  
His father had had this plan to unite the warring fractions. He was by no means a saint and Ruki wouldn’t want to pass him off as one either, but as old age settled in and his son grew up, the old boss tried to do something that had never been done before.  
  
To fuse the separate clans was an overly ambitious plan but for the most part it was working. Ruki had stood at his father’s right hand side, the voice and face of the movement. Ever since he was a kid he’d been kept away from that side of his father’s life and had instead been sent off to fancy schools and boarding colleges overseas so when the time came for his father’s plan, Ruki was the perfect candidate to help lead it. Traditional Japanese training was mixed with a more Westernized way of thinking and education which gave Ruki an edge over most everyone in the city.  
  
Together, Ruki and his father would have succeeded, even if it was just to bring a fragile truce.  
  
Of course there were those who opposed it and Reita was one of them. His actions managed to ignite anger in those willing to follow the treaty and rally those looking to oppose it. Many an allegiance was betrayed in the weeks that followed and by the time the city had settled down hardly any of the clans were under the same rules as before the fights and too many to keep track of had switched sides.  
  
Exiled and with a price on his head, Ruki had simply disappeared into the masses of hopeless, desperate people. Despite his fancy education and his remarkable grades, Ruki had found that he fit into the world of unfortunates all too well and had spent the last two years living what was, in a strange sort of way, his ideal life. He adopted a new name, a new image and found a whole wealth of skills that none of his expensive schools had provided him with.  
  
Everything had been almost perfect until the beginning of the week.  
  
“I had everything under control,” Ruki said after awhile. He had started now; they may as well get the entire truth. He pulled his shirt back up and redid the buttons before shrugging back into his fitted white jacket. “That was until Reita obviously got some fuckwit to go and dig out my personal file from the SS-database. Opened me up to a whole fucking world of corrupt cops and…” Ruki’s words trailed off as Wataru glanced at Aoi.  
  
Ruki frowned, wondering what it was that he was missing. Wataru looked like he was lost somewhere between being sick and angry while Aoi was getting paler and paler by the minute.  
  
“Oh shit.” It was a soft exclamation but Ruki didn’t miss it. Aoi’s lips hardly even moved as he let the words out, but he could have shouted it for all Ruki’s cared.  
  
Wataru and Ruki’s minds seemed to have clicked at the same time and they moved as one. Ruki felt his face twist, his anger fully taking control as he lunged towards the taller man, his fingers curled like claws. Out of the corner of his eye Ruki saw Wataru lunge in the same direction, grim determination set deep into his face.  
  
They collided midstep, a crash of bodies and flailing limbs. Ruki felt Wataru’s hands aiming for his sides, pushing as he grabbed and trying to drive him backwards. Swearing under his breath, Ruki twisted between the other mans reaching hands and lashed out with his right foot. The action sent pain racing through his leg but the way Wataru howled and stepped back was enough of a reward.  
  
“Ruki…?” Ruki didn’t hear a thing Aoi said. The man had his hands out in front of him and was back peddling as fast as Ruki could move forward, his eyes huge and round and his mouth open in shock. Looked like a fucking stunned fish though even Ruki failed to see the irony there.  
  
“You fuckin’ did this!” He wasn’t even aware of himself talking, just his hatred and anger building up until Ruki was sure he was about to combust; burst into a million leaping little flames that would hopefully engulf the moron standing in front of him.  
  
“I’m…” Ruki didn’t allow Aoi the time to finish his sentence. Balling his fingers into a fist, Ruki wasted no time in sending it in a well practiced arch. His knuckles slammed into the side of Aoi’s mouth, snapping the taller mans head back with a spray of crimson. The pain in Ruki’s knuckles was enough proof that it wasn’t just Aoi’s blood that now marred the otherwise pale face.  
  
Balancing his weight, Ruki watched Aoi stagger before going in for another shot. That first one had been a gift; a soft warning of just what Ruki was capable of doing and now he would afford the other man no niceties.  
  
If it wasn’t for Wataru’s quick thinking, Ruki would have been at Aoi’s throat in an instant. Ruki felt the PI’s arms close around his middle again only this time they locked on, each of Wataru’s hands clamping around his own wrists for added grip. Ruki screamed blue murder, his voice cracking and he struggled against the hold but Wataru’s grip held strong and he dragged Ruki to a painful stop. Like a possessed man, Ruki felt his grip on conscious thought slip completely as he lost himself in his rage.  
  
“You!” he yelled while kicking and thrashing against the tight hold, his shout tearing the room open with an inhuman howl. He couldn’t even recognise his own voice as he continued to rant and struggle to get closer to the tall man.  
  
“I’m sorry…” Ruki didn’t hear it. He didn’t want to. Just like having Yuusuke missing, sorry just didn’t cut it.  
  
“Get the fuck off me!” he roared. Feeling Wataru dragging him further away from the pale hacker, Ruki lifted his feet and sent them backwards, smashing them against Wataru’s legs. He felt Wataru stagger slightly despite the way that his grip tightened. The PI was a gutsy little shit and Ruki quickly turned his attention to ranking his nails across the other’s arms.  
  
“Ruki,” Wataru hissed in pain, “calm down.”  
  
“Let me go!” Again Ruki made a desperate leap in Aoi’s direction. He managed to get three steps closer before Wataru got him under control. The older man grunted in exertion as Ruki felt the arms tighten around his waist. All too easily for Rukis’ liking Wataru yanked him clear off his feet and dragged him backwards. Ruki screamed blue murder as they stumbled back, his feet waving and kicking uselessly at the air as they went. With another grunt, Wataru spun Ruki like a rag doll before placing the man back on his feet and rushing them both forward.  
  
Wataru slammed him face first into the wall and Ruki felt his jaw collide with the tiles painfully. Wataru’s breath was hot and sticky against Ruki neck as the PI hissed in his ear. “Calm the fuck down.” He pressed Ruki tighter against the wall to prove his point, “killing him isn’t going to help you.”  
  
“It’ll sure as hell make me fuckin’ feel better.”  
  
“Ruki!”  
  
Ruki’s body rattled as Wataru gave him a warning shake. Gritting his teeth, Ruki tried to fight that pressing swell of anger that was churning in the pit of his stomach. He could feel his heart in his throat, his unsteady pulse in the veins near his temple.  
  
Wataru let him turn around but quickly planted a hand in the middle of Ruki’s chest and pushed him back against the wall. Ruki grunted in response but didn’t try to fight it. Instead he concentrated on locking gazes with Aoi who seemed far too busy trying to look away for Ruki’s liking.  
  
“You fucking did this?” Ruki almost laughed at himself. He managed to sound so calm, so peaceful about the whole thing that even he was impressed.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Aoi said again and Ruki was getting damn sick of hearing those insignificant little words, “I didn’t know. I…”  
  
“_You didn’t know?_” All pretence of being calm officially fled Ruki’s voice as he shrieked and again thrashed against Wataru’s strangle grip. “You didn’t know what? That you’d be fucking up someone’s life while you sat there and pushed fucking buttons? I fucking had normal!” Ruki continued. This time the full roar of his attention was focused on Aoi and Aoi alone. The taller man shrunk back, seeing the madness in the thrashing man’s eyes. “I had hidden and safe and alive!”  
  
Wataru’s grip tightened on him and Ruki found himself getting pushed closer to the wall until he was almost crushed. “Ruki,” the other growled out again. Ruki sighed and shot the PI a dirty look that would reduce most men to a quivering heap.  
  
“Fuck you!” Ruki spat. He glared right back at Wataru, his hatred clearly showing as his jaw tightened and his chin lifted. “If you are going to stand by him, then fuck you.” Reaching up, Ruki grabbed at Wataru’s arm, yanking at it in an attempt to pull himself free.  
  
“Ruki, think about this,” Wataru hissed. The older man’s body pressed tight against him, grinding Ruki to the wall as Wataru whispered into Ruki’s ear. “Whoever is after you is after him as well.”  
  
“I don’t give a shit. Let them fuckin’ kill the prick, see if I care.” Ruki’s eyes snapped up as he glanced over Wataru’s shoulder and once again glared at Aoi. The other man was looking damn scared and that suited Ruki just fine. Aoi’s hands were clasped together as his toe pushed at something on the floor that most certainly didn’t exist.  
  
“For fucks sake, Ruki.” Ruki felt his body rattle once again and if possible, Wataru pressed himself even closer. Lifting his chin higher and his face further away from Wataru, Ruki groaned as his head rubbed against the tiles. It was starting to get difficult to breath with the PI trying to squash him to the wall though Ruki gathered that was the point. A way to forcibly calm him down by half suffocating him to death.  
  
Wataru continued with his voice nothing above a growled whisper. “Think Ruki. You are safer in numbers; you can use him.”  
  
Ruki decided to ignore Wataru, his eyes never once leaving Aoi.  
  
Brown eyes locked onto Aoi’s, cold and yet defeated, calculating and yet wavering. “Why?” The word was small but it hung in the air like thick smoke. “What gave you the right to go messing in other peoples’ lives like that?”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
Ruki scoffed, the sound coming out half manically and half like a sob. “Sorry?” Wataru’s grip was slipping and the man took a step back. Ruki shoved him the rest of the way off but made no attempt to move forward again. Instead, with his back still to the wall, Ruki allowed his legs to fold under him. He easily slid to the floor, his arms resting in his lap and his head against the titles. His once feral eyes locked onto a spot on the ceiling that only he could see but he was no less aware of the way that Wataru stood between him and Aoi defensively. “’Sorry’ sure as hell don’t change anything.”  
  
“I’ll help you,” Aoi said and from the look on his face Ruki was sure that even Aoi didn’t realise what he was saying.  
  
Ruki could practically see the thoughts ticking through Aoi’s mind. That backward pedal that clarified that he’d opened his mouth far too soon. It didn’t take a genius to guess his thoughts either; Ruki was convinced that Aoi was in fact stupid so it made it all the more easy to do.  
  
What the hell was he meant to do to help?  
  
“I know it’s not much,” Aoi continued. He was either overly confident or he was working hard at faking it cause he took a step closer. Wataru watched from the side, poised and ready to pounce if need be as Ruki felt Aoi approach. Maybe the man was suicidal or just batfuck mad, but Ruki felt his presence as Aoi knelt down in front of him and searched out his eyes. Ruki didn’t want to know, didn’t want to look and sure as hell didn’t want to be this close to the bastard. “But whatever I can do, I’ll do it.”  
  
“I don’t need your help,” Ruki muttered, his eyes still unfocused and distant even though he committed Aoi’s actions to memory. “You’ve helped enough, thank you very much.”  
  
“Please…” Ruki’s eyes continued to stare off into the distance even as he felt Aoi move. The darkhaired man’s face soon appeared in Ruki’s line of sight and Ruki quickly averted his gaze down.  
  
He felt that inner twitch of anger again as the man’s head once again tipped. What the fuck was Aoi playing at? Did he want to see the hatred in Ruki’s eyes? Would that make him feel better or something?  
  
Letting all his hatred, his anger and that painful twist of reality build up inside him, Ruki raised his head and spat into Aoi’s face. Fuck him, it had felt good to do that.  
  
Aoi looked shocked; like Ruki should have physically slapped him instead of doing something like that. Tentatively, Aoi reached a shaking hand out and wiped at the glob of spittle, his face not registering anything other than shock. Not even disgust.  
  
“You may not want my help,” Aoi said and Ruki found himself shuddering at just how cold and controlled that voice was. It was a dynamic change that he had not been expecting. He hardly sounded like the weak, terrified idiot that Ruki knew he was and if Ruki hadn’t seen the colour drain from Aoi’s face moments ago then he would have believed that this man was made of guts and balls. “But you are going to get it.”  
  
Ruki rolled his eyes. Noble and stupid, that’s what this guy was. It was annoying, irritating Ruki to the very core and the look he sent Aoi said as much. He added to his sarcastic look by placing his hand over his heart and offering the other a dumbstruck expression. “Please,” he said, faking the words with a great sigh, “Don’t go stretching your limits on my account. And don’t go fucking using me to help justify your own shit-for-brains screw up!” The last part came out in a hiss, all venom and spite and this time Ruki saw Aoi visibly flinch.  
  
“Good,” Ruki continued at the obvious display of shock. “Keep it that way.” Reaching out, Ruki used both hands to shove violently at the other man. Aoi wasn’t expecting it which gave Ruki even more of a thrill as the other man toppled backwards and landed on his arse with his hands out behind him.  
  
It was a childish action and even Ruki would admit that, but it worked in getting Aoi out of his face. With a clear path, Ruki stood up, sparing only a moment to glare down at Aoi before brushing past him.  
  
Heading for the door, Ruki failed to notice Wataru slipping noiselessly between Ruki and his only exit. Ruki skidded to a stop as he rather abruptly came face to face with the barrel of a gun.  
  
Ruki froze instantly, his mind searching for any possible explanation and coming up shitfully blank. Was this because of his actions towards Aoi, cause it if was Ruki had no idea what Wataru was playing at. His mouth opened in shock as he looked between the gun and Wataru like both the man and the object had grown another head and a set of wings.  
  
“What the fuck?” He spat out. “I pushed him; not like I fucking killed him as he deserves.”  
  
“I think we’re forgetting something,” Wataru said. He brushed off Ruki’s statement with a twitch of his lip and a slight lift of his right shoulder. Again Ruki found the PI’s voice was just as controlled as Aoi’s and he started to think that maybe his emotions weren’t as controlled as he thought they were.  
  
It was impossible to ignore the way that Wataru held the gun perfectly level with the bridge of Ruki’s nose. If there was ever a doubt that Wataru had been a cop it would have been blown right out of the water with that firm grip. Hell, he looked like a fucking cop with his left arm bent at the elbow and his right completely straight and braced for the kickback.  
  
“And what is that?” It was a struggle to keep the surprise out of his voice but Ruki somehow managed it. Didn’t change the way that his jaw clenched or hide the spark of annoyance in his eyes though.  
  
Ruki watched as Wataru swallowed a lump in his throat and took at least a little comfort in that. It looked hard to do, the man’s muscles in both his neck and temples throbbing at the action.  
  
“Yuusuke disappeared working _your_ case.” The gun tightened in Wataru’s hand, no doubt in response to the way that Ruki’s look of disbelief turned into a dark glower. “The way I see it is that you owe me a damn explanation, Ruki. And if you can’t give it then you damn well know who can.” The PI’s gaze shifted to Aoi momentarily and Ruki vaguely wondered what the darkhaired man looked like behind him. Was he as stunned as Ruki was? “If you are so hellbent on helping then you can tag along too.”  
  
Ruki couldn’t fight the sigh that pushed past his lips. He shot Wataru a pointed glance but was met with nothing but determined resolve and a meaningful wave of the gun barrel.  
  
“Neither of you are leaving my sight until I find my partner.”  
  


*****

**Chapter Thirteen preview:**

  
  
Lifting his arm, Ruki smacked the taller man upside the head. Hard. Aoi visibly flinched, his face contorting in pain and shock. Yet as if Ruki needed proof that the man’s brain wasn’t attached to his mouth, he somehow managed to get the rest of the sentence out while rubbing at his head and looking damnwell indignant about it.  
  
“Oh yeah,” Ruki said, his head tilting to the side and his loose dreads following along with it. “That’s just a fuckin’ great idea, Sparky. Seriously. Do you have a fuckin’ brain in there or did you have it replaced with a peanut?”  
  


*****


	15. Chapter Thirteen - Dead Ends and Paper Trails

Chapter Thirteen

Dead Ends and Paper Trails

*****

  
  
Atsushi surveyed the mess with a sigh. A small squadron of officers were already there, keeping people at bay and securing the police tape around the crash but that wasn’t much of a relief. The site had already been compromised as people ran back and forth and the fact that the place was utterly covered in fish tank water wasn’t much of a help.  
  
The engine had long been turned off but it still hissed and smoked and a strange ticking sound came from within. A member of the scene unit was currently checking it out though they had already illuminated any threat of a bomb or other explosive device being the cause of the noise.  
  
“All’s clear, sir,” the man said, his head surfacing from the depths on the car's engine. Atsushi nodded his thanks; at least he didn’t have to worry about the thing exploding on them.  
  
Thus settled, Atsushi walked into the middle of the mess, his boots causing little waves to ripple out through the inch deep covering of water. Dead fish lay everywhere some already starting to bloat and it was only a matter of time before the entire place would start to stink with all the charm of the fish-market.  
  
Pushing the threatening stench to the side, he tried to focus on what could have happened. The witnesses said that it was the darkhaired man, the suspected computer hacker Yūrei, who had broken the fish tank.  
  
Why? Atsushi asked him again and again. Why put himself in such a vulnerable position? Why break the damn fish tank?  
  
To stun. To slow the gunman down, maybe. But surely the hacker would have been caught up in the force as well. That was where the eyewitness reports officially ended. Some said they saw the man running at the fish tank, others just said that they heard it and felt the water explode from its confines. No one claimed to have seen it break, or why the man had done it or even where he had gone afterwards. All anyone knew after that was that the shooter had stayed and looked around before heading down to the railway tracks them self though Atsushi couldn’t even confirm if that was the way that Ruki had even gone.  
  
He was just starting to get the feeling that this wild goose chase was a lost cause when something on the tank itself caught his attention.  
  
Eyes squinting, Atsushi picked his way around the dead fish and over to the fish tank. Red. Watery crimson streaked across a section of the glass. From the way that the shatter lines at the top and bottom of the tank ran into what would have been a point, Atsushi guessed that this was the place where the tank had actually been broken.  
  
Waving his arm out behind him, Atsushi flagged down a member of the forensics team and pointed to the blood. “Run the blood,” Atsushi instructed to the man. It was the grasping attempts of a desperate man but it was worth a try. Either they’d get a match on who the hell this Yūrei was or they’d get lucky and find something that they could relate to the assassins or maybe even someone higher up.  
  
Atsushi took a moment to cast his eyes across the scene again. Once more his search came back depressingly empty of information. Any and all leads ended here. That was it. There was no sign of where anyone involved in the incident went and with the security cameras shot out there was no way of seeing exactly what happened. All they had to go on was a few eye witness accounts while all seemed to vary greatly and most of which sounded overly exaggerated.  
  
Like usual not too many people were talking and when Atsushi and Toru managed to work out what was probably true from what was fabricated, none of the facts seemed to match up. Well, they did, but not in the way that Atsushi was expecting.  
  
Ruki was a criminal – that was a granted – but as far as most others went, Ruki was by far the lesser of the evils. For that matter, Atsushi had trusted Ruki when he’d said that he didn’t know this Yūrei. Then why did most accounts confirm that a certain tall, dark-haired man with a lip ring was running around and getting involved?  
  
Atsushi couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something. It made no sense. Each and every time Atsushi thought he had it worked out something else would pop into his mind and remind him of all the ways that his theory was wrong.  
  
With a defeated sigh, Atsushi sunk onto a bench against the wall. From here he could see the entire scene as if it had been laid out especially for him. It was like one big canvas, an artist’s puzzle that had been designed with him especially in mind. Atsushi felt like he was staring at an image where you needed to go cross-eyed in order for the 3D object to come jumping out at you. That or it was a labyrinth that he needed to find the end of. Time was ticking and he was still lost somewhere in the middle, walking in circles and trampling over his own footprints.  
  
It was infuriating and provoked a sense of uselessness in him that he rarely felt.  
  
Atsushi closed his eyes and lent his head back against the wall. He tried to picture the scene in his mind. The screeching tires, the shattering glass, the smoking bonnet. The driver slumped against the wheel. Ruki’s face came to mind and Atsushi knew better than to dismiss it. Everything told him that it had something to do with the short man. It was too much of a coincidence to be ignored.  
  
Concentrating, Atsushi reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose and he tried to put himself in Ruki’s shoes. Somehow scared and afraid didn’t seem to sit with Ruki, but even the feisty little Yakuza brat wasn’t above such emotions. He’d be panicked, cut off from his best chance of escape and alone, not to mention injured. There was enough blood in the car to justify that thought.  
  
So where would he go?  
  
It was easy to pick where someone like Ruki wouldn’t go, but the short man’s predictability was limited to just that. He had the smarts to avoid certain places and people but his irrational way of doing things opened up a whole world of possible places for him to run.  
  
Trying to think like Ruki was never going to get Atsushi anywhere.  
  
Even so he was starting to understand the ‘why’ but that was not enough to keep him on the trail. Not when it died in such a public place with useless witness reports and only a trail of bullets to suggest what way to go.  
  
He’d had his suspicions the moment the SS-Database had been breached. It was too easy to pinpoint. An open attack on the information regarding the Yakuza’s hottest target. Assassins and public shootings all on the second anniversary of what was referred to as The Gangland Killings. It stank of one person and one person alone and Atsushi really didn’t need to think too hard about where that smell belonged.  
  
Suzuki Akira, or Reita as he was better known. But as Atsushi had proven time and time again, it was completely different knowing that Reita was involved compared to proving that he was.  
  
The main problem with Reita was that he was smart. Very smart. Atsushi knew what Reita did, he’d been following the man’s life and actions before he rose to power. But every time Atsushi got close something was missing. Vital evidence, a witness vanished or a solid alibi provided by someone who was viewed as irrefutable in the eyes of the law.  
  
Each and every time Atsushi had something to pin on the Yakuza lord, Reita managed to avoid it with a smile and a shake of his head. The man was untouchable by the law and with spies and moles in every level of the system Atsushi had found his hands tied and his cases bust before he’d even been able to start.  
  
And here Reita was striking again and Atsushi already knew that Reita would have ensured that nothing could get traced back to him. Squeaky clean and completely indestructible.  
  
“Fuck it,” Atsushi swore.  
  
“Sir?” Toru asked tentatively. The blonde took a step closer, his head tilting as he sought out Atsushi’s gaze. Atsushi tried to ignore him. Hell, he wanted nothing more than to ignore the whole damn world at this point in time.  
  
“We were so fucking close.”  
  
Atsushi watched as Toru moved around him and went to talk to one of the beat officers. The man nodded and bowed a few times before scurrying off, allowing Toru to return.  
  
The younger officer lent up against the wall, his legs crossed and his arms folded over his chest. He seemed so relaxed that Atsushi found himself envying him. It was rare for Atsushi to feel anxious but now more than ever he was feeling the pinch. Time was running out and he risked having whatever was going on unfold before he even managed to formulate a hypothesis.  
  
“You’ll work it out,” Toru said from his position by the wall. The way he said it made it sound like it was the simplest thing in the world. What was shaping up to be the case of the year was apparently nothing to Toru, or, as Toru no doubt thought, it was nothing but a small step for Atsushi.  
  
“It’s not that simple,” Atsushi grumbled out. He hated the way he sounded so defeated. He was about to continue on when Toru stood back up and walked off. Frowning, Atsushi looked up, seeing his partner talking to the man who had recently scampered off. The man bowed again before returning to what he was doing and Toru came back to Atsushi’s side, two cups in his hand.  
  
A cup of coffee was thrust into Atsushi’s hands and in all honestly, Atsushi could have hugged the younger man right there and then. Somehow he’d been craving another caffeine hit without even realising it.  
  
“I know it doesn’t seem that simple,” Toru said as he once again reclined next to Atsushi. Idly Atsushi wondered why the other man never really sat when around him but put it down to Toru’s overly polite, respectful ways. Finding it all overly fascinating, Atsushi watched as one of Toru’s arms wrapped around his stomach while the other nursed his own hot cup. Toru had that strange, distant look in his eyes that meant he was thinking about something deep and meaningful or battling with himself over a thought that he would probably never voice. “But it is.”  
  
Atsushi shot him a glance that bordered on annoyed even as he sipped at the hot coffee.  
  
“Look at it this way,” Toru said as he took a sip. “You know this; you know _all_ of this. Yes, we have been a step behind the entire time, but Sir, it is only one step. Everything that has happened you have predicted and if not…” Toru shrugged. Atsushi wasn’t looking at him, but he could see him out of the corner of his eye. Toru never once looked at him, just kept staring ahead much like Atsushi and giving that empty space a thoughtful gaze. “I’m new at all this so call me naive if you wish, but look at everywhere we’ve been today. You walk into a room and you can see it. _See_ what happened and why it happened and it is that ability that has kept us so close.”  
  
Atsushi felt the other finally look at him and for a moment he would have sworn that Toru was a lot older than he appeared. “Who else could do that?” Toru asked though Atsushi knew it wasn’t a question to be answered.  
  
Toru’s words were naïve, Atsushi wouldn’t deny that, but it still felt good to hear them.  
  
“But now we’ve got nothing.”  
  
Toru smiled, that strange secret smile of his that Atsushi was starting to get used to. “I have faith.”  
  
As if Toru was a mind reader or clairvoyant, Atsushi’s phone vibrated into life within his pocket. Casting the young cop a look that could only be described as sly, Atsushi pulled the device out and flipped it open.  
  
He listened to the other voice intently, nodding as the officer rambled out the facts. Atsushi’s dark eyes sought out Toru’s for reasons he wasn’t too sure about. Then younger officer maintained the eye contact, his gaze questioning as he squinted at Atsushi.  
  
Finally, the voice on the other end faded out and Atsushi ended the call. Still looking at Toru, Atsushi lifted the coffee cup to his lips and took a long draught. It fascinated him how Toru managed to look so interested and yet refrained from asking for details.  
  
“We’ve got to backtrack,” Atsushi finally said. He dragged himself to his feet, his coffee still held tightly in his hand. “They’ve found something at the murder scene.” At Toru’s questioning eyebrow Atsushi continued. “Something about a page from a file regarding the hack on the SS Database.  
  
Atsushi watched as that customary smile crept over Toru’s face. Smug and yet genuine and this time holding a hit of childish superiority.  
  


******

  
  
Wataru was watching him. Dark eyes picking out every movement, noting every step, each and every single drag of his leg and Ruki was sure that the PI committed each time Ruki’s eye twitched at the pain to memory.  
  
It was downright creepy being watched.  
  
Ruki wasn’t stupid; he knew why Wataru was doing it. The PI was expecting Ruki to run; to make a dash for it. Wataru could hardly walk along with his gun pressed to Ruki’s back and without that, the almost hostage situation was out of Wataru’s hands and Ruki knew the other man well enough to understand just how much that would piss the other off. Not overly good considering how pissed the other man was already.  
  
Once Wataru had flipped his top and pulled the gun, things had sobered up something shocking. Ruki had been tempted to make a lunge for it but the look in Wataru’s eyes was something to be feared. The PI wasn’t messing around and not for the first time Ruki had to question just how far Wataru and Yuusuke’s friendship went. On the same side, it wasn’t like Ruki wanted to go hurting one of his few friends either.  
  
It had turned into a stand off, with Ruki glaring Wataru down and Wataru still holding the gun like a fucking cop. The silence had gotten almost unbearable and maybe Ruki wasn’t the only one thinking it because Aoi suddenly spoke up. He’d been the perfect little diplomat which Ruki was sure was only easy cause unlike him, Aoi didn’t have a gun in his face.  
  
Aoi had somehow politely reminded them that they were still dangerously close to the station and thus their last known position. He had also pointed out that the assassin was likely to be looking for them and the longer they stayed holed up in this dump the higher their chances of getting caught. Despite his better judgement Ruki would have thrown his money to the guy for a well done sell, but Wataru still didn’t look like he was buying. Aoi quickly fixed that by providing the slapping truth; if they were found then all hope of finding Yuusuke was officially over.  
  
That worked like a kick to the ass and Wataru was soon ushering them out the door while Aoi led the way to somewhere he deemed safe where they could get some rest and rediscuss this whole hostage issue.  
  
Ruki, oddly, had been forced to follow along mutely. Apparently he didn’t get much of a choice in the matter and considering the pressing pain in his leg, it was probably a good thing because he sure as hell didn’t feel like talking.  
  
“It’s just around the corne-” Aoi’s voice trailed off as he came to a stop. Ruki only just noticed before ploughing into the guy and it was a good thing too. With the way Aoi was standing there he looked like he’s been struck dumb – well, dumber than usual – and Ruki was sure that they would have both gone over and neither been able to get up afterwards.  
  
Forcefully tearing his glaring eyes away from Aoi, Ruki looked out at the street beyond and did a depressingly good imitation of the taller man.  
  
“Fuck,” Ruki muttered, as Wataru came to a stop off to his left. Ruki busied himself with nibbling on his lip and trying to ignore the way the three of them stood there, side by side, facing and staring at the lights like they were lined up for a firing squad.  
  
The street was lit up like a stadium with people running back and forth like players scrambling for some kicked ball. Only thing was all the players were in uniforms. Cop uniforms with a few ambulance ones thrown in. There was a shout and a few people went running to the door of what looked like an abandoned apartment building. Ruki watched, utterly transfixed on the scene which became even more disturbing as a number of uniforms started dragging and pushing out a stretcher.  
  
After that there was no denying what was going on. The white sheet, the red smudges and the shape of a body. Ruki’s eyes never once left the scene even though he tensed. Beside him, Aoi drew in a deep, shaking breath and Ruki thought he heard him whispering a name.  
  
“I guess this is where we were going?” It was an overly dry thing to say, especially for Wataru, but Ruki had to give him points for stepping up and stating the obvious. Let’s face it, when confronted with a scene like that, someone had to be the idiot and open their mouths and Ruki was just glad that he was spared the embarrassment.  
  
Despite being corny, Wataru’s words shook Ruki from his trance and he started hobbling back a few steps. “We’d better go,” he muttered, his eyes again flicking to Aoi.  
  
Aoi looked bad. It was like his face changed within an instant. Ruki gathered that he was naturally pale but as he stood there, watching the stretcher and the cops and the ambulance without any lights of sirens, he seemed to drain of even that small amount of colour he had. Just watching it make Ruki’s stomach churn; the way that Aoi’s eyes seemed to noticeably retreat further into his skull, darken and go bloodshot. Ruki was reminded of some ghoul or a zombie.  
  
And then, as if that was really the case, Aoi was stepping forward and out into the fucking lights.  
  
“Hey!” Ruki hissed out, trying to keep his voice nothing more than a whisper. He hobbled forward while shooting a meaningful glance over his shoulder at Wataru. The PI either understood or was already seeing the danger for himself and rushed forward. Just like he had done with Ruki in the decrepit bathroom, he came up behind Aoi, locked one arm around the man’s middle and somehow had the foresight to clamp a hand over the other’s mouth as well.  
  
Ruki watched the struggle from the shadows, not overly willing to step into the light. Out of all of them, he looked the worst with blood drying to the side of his face, not to mention that he was the one who was well acquainted with most of the cops in town and it wasn’t through catching up for coffee and doughnuts either.  
  
It took less than a minute to get Aoi under control but to Ruki it felt like forever. All it would take was one of the beat police to turn, or one of the ambulance workers to look up and there would be Aoi and Wataru, lit up like blasted Christmas trees. Probably wouldn’t look too good with Wataru trying to physically drag Aoi back into the alleyway either.  
  
Ruki’s heart pounded in his chest the whole time. It was getting faster and faster and he swore that he was only a step away from shaking. If they were seen then they were screwed. At least he was, as hell would need to burn all the way to the heavens before he’d be able to run on his leg. The thought entered his mind that maybe that was it. That was Aoi’s deal. He was trying to lead them to the cops, trying to get Ruki captured and put away and fucked it if didn’t make Ruki want to throttle him even more.  
  
Finally Wataru dragged Aoi backwards. He’d struggled at first as Aoi defiantly had the advantage of height and Ruki gathered strength as well. But eventually Wataru got it sorted and pulled Aoi, who, for his part, went somewhat limp and allowed it. By that time Aoi looked more like a stunned fish; well, Ruki gathered that was the expression though it was hard to tell with Wataru’s hand still clamped over the other man’s mouth.  
  
“Calm down.” Ruki rolled his eyes. Wataru was starting to sound like a bleeding broken record and it was getting annoying. That was no way to deal with this type of situation. It needed shock and harshness, not those sugar-coated words from movies mixed with offered shoulders to cry on. That would get them fucking nowhere and Ruki sure as hell wanted to be anywhere but here.  
  
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Ruki cut in. He hobbled up next to the two men, his face right in Aoi’s even as Wataru continued to hold the taller man back. Aoi was looking right at him though Ruki got the feeling he wasn’t seeing a hell of a lot of anything.  
  
Ruki glared, his lips pressing into a thin line as his hand lifted. Clicking his fingers in front of Aoi’s face he made sure that the man was actually seeing him and paying attention before he continued.  
  
“Do you want us to get caught? Get a fuckin’ grip,” Ruki hissed. “This is war and shit happens. Move on.” Aoi just looked at him, his eyes all strange and distant and Ruki wondered if he had even heard a word Ruki had said. Wataru had, as usual, and was giving Ruki a look that suggested that Ruki was a demon or the anti-Christ or something just as evil.  
  
The three of them stood there for longer than Ruki would have liked, though this time it at least didn’t resemble a firing squad. More like stunned silence, or a play put on pause, the actors waiting for the shout of the director before bursting back into life.  
  
“I told him to leave…” Aoi finally said. Oddly enough he didn’t sound half as choked up about it as Ruki had pinned him for. His voice was somewhere between normal and just plain flat which Ruki was starting to think, as redundant as it seemed, was actually normal for Aoi. The taller man’s eyes were already starting to clear somewhat even if his face was still deathly pale. At least it was a start.  
  
Wataru slowly started to loosen his grip on Aoi’s waist and the taller man righted himself somewhat.  
  
“Well then, you did all that you could.” It was the closest that Ruki could bring himself towards actually caring and offering words of support. Even so, he knew he was right. If Aoi had the foresight to warn whoever the hell was in that body bag then good for him and shit for the dead guy. At least he had been warned. Aoi’s friend had obviously chosen to stay and had learnt the hard way that choices like that only left you one way; a corpse.  
  
That was the long and short of it all and maybe it was horrible of Ruki, but he saw it as survival of the smartest. Those without the smarts didn’t make it while those with them normally pulled the trigger.  
  
That, however, didn’t explain Aoi cause Ruki was still sure that he was lacking the brightness that came with self-preservation. Obviously some of the stupid ones just had luck on their side. Though it wasn’t a secret that luck had a tendency to run out so Ruki turned his attention away from Aoi and glanced back at the street, just to be sure that they hadn’t been seen.  
  
No one was running at them, there was no other screaming so it all seemed fine. Ruki sent a silent prayer to every god he’d ever heard of and then some.  
  
Lady luck, however, was a temperamental bitch at times and just as Ruki thought they were all good, a sleek black and all too familiar car pulled up and Ruki felt like swearing. Perhaps he had overdone it with the praying and managed to piss some god off by paying tribute to its enemy.  
  
Atsushi.  
  
Well, Atsushi and that snooty little blonde bitch.  
  
“Fuck me sideways ‘till I cry,” Ruki muttered under his breath. From the way Aoi’s head snapped down, Ruki gathered that Aoi had chosen that moment to actually understand what he was saying. Figured. “We gotta go,” Ruki quickly said, this time a little louder.  
  
Both Wataru and Aoi turned, instantly looking over their shoulders and at the black car. As usual Aoi was a split second behind and Ruki wondered if he was only looking because Wataru was. Monkey see monkey do. Either way, at least Wataru deserved an explanation so Ruki hobbled forward and draw the PI’s attention to the scene.  
  
“You see that guy over there?” Ruki asked, pointing to Atsushi, “dark hair and a fancy suit? Well he’s like a fuckin’ blood hound so we gotta move before he sniffs us out and lets the dogs loose.” Aoi appeared at Ruki’s side and the shorter man tried not to be annoyed as he re-pointed out Atsushi. It really was a matter of saying everything twice.  
  
Ruki could see the fragmented street light shine in Aoi’s eyes as the other looked in the direction he was pointing. It was an eerie scene; those almost black depths bursting suddenly into life and Ruki felt himself stepping back slightly as he continued to explain. “And that prissy little blonde shit is a pain in the ass too, so can we just go?”  
  
“What are they… are they assigned to Miyavi’s death?” Ruki sighed and started making mental notes on what not to say. It seemed that the moron wasn’t really able to come to any conclusions on his own and that unless he had it explained in simple, slow sentences with little words and maybe a pretty diagram, he just wasn’t going to understand.  
  
“Let’s just say that it looks like we got something in common after all.” Ruki scoffed and fiddled with his hair. The knot of dreads was falling slightly to the side, pulling on his already tender scalp and increasing his headache tenfold.  
  
“How so?” Ruki should have guessed that it would be Wataru who would answer him, not Aoi. The hacker seemed far too busy with trying to look invisible while casting fugitive glances over at Atsushi. For his part, the cop seemed to be doing what he did best, pointing people in various directions, reading a piece of paper and talking on his phone all at once. At least he was busy and not snooping in the shadows to follow any crazy hunches.  
  
“That suit’s been on my case for awhile.” There was no point keeping things secret anymore, besides, the way he was going Ruki was certain that the whole damn city would know who he was soon enough. “Called me in after my file got bust.”  
  
“He’s looking for the hacker,” Wataru substituted and Ruki guessed it was because both he and Wataru knew that Aoi was slow. Had to really spell things out for him at times. “The murder is just a piece of evidence in a long chain.”  
  
“Which means that he knows it’s all related and gives us more reason to get the fuck away.”  
  
“Maybe…”  
  
It was one word but Ruki sure as hell didn’t like where it was going. Then again, Ruki didn’t tend to like anything that came out of Aoi’s mouth, especially not when it held that lingering, dreamy tone to it.  
  
“Maybe what?” he demanded, siding up to the taller man and shooting him his best unimpressed glare.  
  
“Maybe he can help us.” Aoi had just gotten the word ‘can’ out and Ruki was already moving. Lifting his arm, Ruki smacked the taller man upside the head. Hard. Aoi visibly flinched, his face contorting in pain and shock. Yet as if Ruki needed proof that the man’s brain wasn’t attached to his mouth, he somehow managed to get the rest of the sentence out while rubbing at his head and looking damnwell indignant about it.  
  
“Oh yeah,” Ruki said, his head tilting to the side and his loose dreads following along with it. “That’s just a fuckin’ great idea, Sparky. Seriously. Do you have a fuckin’ brain in there or did you have it replaced with a peanut?”  
  
“I…”  
  
“I mean, what the fuck?” Ruki continued. His hand lifted once more, jerking in the direction of Aoi’s head again. Maybe the first slap had beaten some sense into the taller man for he flinched out of the way and took a step back. Ruki followed though, this time aiming for the man’s upper arm and not giving a damn as the hacker grunted and hissed at the assault. Must have hurt too, Ruki thought, judging by the look on Aoi’s face and Ruki ignored the slight damp stickiness of Aoi’s shirt that transferred onto his hand.  
  
“Stop it!” Aoi hissed and Ruki felt it his duty to whack the guy over the head again. Aoi didn’t see that one coming – poor fool was too busy fussing over his arm – and Ruki got him square against the temple. “He could…”  
  
“He could…? Wait,” Ruki said, his voice turning sarcastic and sardonic. “I got a better one. Let’s just waltz into the cop station and proclaim ourselves and see who wants to take the first shot. That sound like fun to you, moron? We’ll give ‘em tickets, make ‘em stand in a nice little line and pretend we’re playin’ dodgeball.”  
  
This time Ruki’s hand collided with Aoi’s chest, driving the man back a few paces. Again Ruki followed, mirroring step for step, stumble for stumble and feeling oddly better for it. The want to grunt out a corny one liner was almost impossible to ignore and for a moment Ruki gathered that such words would probably be the only ones Aoi would understand. You had to deal with the freak in the same way his mind worked; movies and bad clichés. With each blow that descended onto the taller man, Ruki counted out the reasons in his head for it. This one was because Aoi was stupid; this one because he was obnoxiously tall and that last one was for fucking up Ruki’s life. The hit that followed that – a jab of all fingers into the middle of Aoi’s chest – was because he wasn’t fighting back and when Ruki next whacked Aoi upside the head it was due to the fact that Aoi was a pushover.  
  
“Stop. Fucking. Hitting me!” Aoi grit out. Ruki had to give him snaps for that; the nerd somehow managed to make his voice sound borderline dangerous. So Ruki did the only thing he could. He slapped him again and again. And again. They weren’t particularly vicious hits and Ruki had never been one for slapping – he preferred to dish out the brut of his knuckles any day – but it was enough that Ruki felt a world of better with each and every one. Head, face, arm and chest; nothing was spared, not even when Aoi’s arms flew up to guard his face from the assault. Ruki merely ducked and used his lack of height to his advantage to get right back in there and keep going.  
  
Ruki was just about to turn it nasty and throw in a few fingernails when the game changed and Ruki was left both flabbergasted and breathless.  
  
Maybe Aoi was reading his mind but the fucker pulled the dirty before Ruki had the chance, kicked the counterfeit artist in the knee and Ruki decided that the other man had to die. No questions, no buts and no niceties; just death. Slow, painful death that Ruki would dish out as soon as his knee reattached itself and he was able to stop hopping on one leg while clutching at it.  
  
“Ah fuck!” Ruki swore as his vision momentarily flashed out of focus. Feeling somewhat like a crippled idiot, he gripped his knee and tried to make it feel _normal_. Horrible flashes of his lower leg hanging limply from his body and flapping around in the breeze assaulted his mind and he tried even more desperately to keep it in place. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he was overly dramatizing things and that his leg was by no means just hanging on by a thread but that sort of rational thinking did nothing. It neither helped the pain nor quelled his homicidal need to throttle the living shit out of the retarded buttmonkey who had just kicked him. _Kicked him_ for Christs sake!  
  
“I’m sorry!” Aoi’s words came out slurred and rushed and proceeded a whole string of something that Ruki didn’t want to hear. Anyway it was easier to focus on the agony and the many ways in which he would make the jerk-off pay, not to mention a lot more fun. Well, at least the last part was.  
  
Not entirely sure what he was going to do, Ruki started hobbling towards the hacker again, his hands in his pockets as he searched for anything sharp, pointy and painful. His leg felt like it was about to give out at any moment but the pure need to make the other suffer was all he required to solider on.  
  
“Ruki, god, I’m so sorry,” Aoi was still prattling on and moving further away which was just annoying. “Are you alright?”  
  
“Shut the fuck up and come here!” For a moment Ruki almost thought it would work. The hacker had that panicked look on his face that Ruki was already starting to know off by heart. It was where Aoi’s eyes expanded and his mouth managed to somehow hang open even though he was busy chowing down on his lip ring. It made him look like an idiot.  
  
Said idiot almost took a step closer and Ruki could have sworn that his heart threw a little party as his hand finally found his pocket knife. It gave him away, however, and maybe the look on Ruki’s face was as evil as he felt for Aoi quickly moved back again, pressing himself to the alleyway wall and shaking his head. “So you can stab me? I don’t think so…”  
  
Had Ruki been in his right mind he thoroughly believed that he would have tried to sweet talk the other man, coax him out with kind words and pretty little lies to make extracting his revenge easier. Instead he simply ploughed on, limping with his head down and his jaw set and grim determination. At the moment he couldn’t give a shit if his knee fell off just as long as he could make it those few extra steps and just…  
  
“All right, that’s enough!” Wataru snapped and before Ruki could lunge the PI was between them and looking angry.  
  
“Fuck off.” Ruki made to move around him, not once looking up at the other man even as Wataru’s hand closed around his upper arm. Jerking to a painful halt, Ruki tried to brush the other off but the PI retaliated by dragging Ruki backwards and shoving the smaller man. Growling, Ruki clocked up another point on his list of reasons to ‘off’ Wataru as well and considering how the night was going, that list was getting pretty full.  
  
Stumbling backwards, Ruki caught himself on a dumpster and glared at Wataru, grumbled and rubbed at his leg some more. Fire. It felt like fire was blazing right in his kneecap, under the bone and burning with such heat that it was melting the flesh.  
  
“He fuckin’ started it!” Ruki spat, his free hand rising to jab meaningfully at Aoi. A growl rolled in the back of Ruki’s throat, filling the alleyway with the feral sound.  
  
“I did not!”  
  
“My god!” Ruki almost laughed, “You are such a fucking child!”  
  
It was impossible for Ruki to tell if Aoi had the guts to say anything back as Wataru quickly interjected. The words were hissed, low and menacing and Ruki noted that the PI did a damn good job of sounding scary. Much better than Aoi’s previous attempt.  
  
“Both of you shut up!” Ruki’s mouth was opening on its own accord, ready to say something bitchy back but Wataru seemed to be expecting that. With his leg throbbing and threatening to give way, Ruki was left standing there gripping the dirty dumpster as Wataru quickly covered the distance between them. The PI’s hand closed around Ruki’s right wrist, his long fingers digging into the pressure point and forcing the shorter man to release his grip on his knife. Wataru yanked it away and Ruki watched, almost horrified, as his blade disappeared into Wataru’s pocket.  
  
“Hey!” Ruki protested only to have Wataru’s hand closed around his shoulder. With one swift movement the PI turned Ruki around, kicked his good leg out from under him, grabbed him by the middle and clamped his hand over the struggling man’s mouth.  
  
“Shut up,” Wataru hissed, his breath hot against Ruki’s neck. It took all of Ruki’s concentration to get his good leg back flat on the ground and for him not to collapse as his busted knee screamed in protest. Fucking Wataru always knew how to subdue someone just like the blasted cop he was. “And for the love of god Aoi, wipe that smug look off your face or I’ll do the same to you!” Ruki refused to look at the taller man but he hoped that he looked as scolded as Ruki felt and if not Ruki would be more than willing to continue the berating later. Someone had to teach the geek some smarts and Ruki may as well be the one to beat them into him; he’d take pleasure in it.  
  
With the man’s hand clamped over his mouth, Ruki huffed and busied himself with glaring at the floor. “Need I remind you that there is a whole squadron of police just around the corner? This is neither the time nor the place for you two to have your petty little squabble so shut the fuck up and focus.”  
  
As if the surprises would never end, Ruki noticed movement from Aoi’s direction and glanced up in time to see Aoi dropping his head and mutter, “Sorry.” Ruki rolled his eyes and flexed his jaw a few times, pushing bone and teeth against Wataru’s hand in a muffled request to be free.  
  
“I’ll be watching you,” Wataru hissed as his hand finally slipped from Ruki’s mouth. Ruki jerked, batted the other man away and limped forward, determined to stand on his own two feet no matter how much it hurt.  
  
They stood in silence for long enough that it started getting to Ruki. He kept glancing over at Wataru who was cold and as unreadable as ever before, time and time again, he found his eyes wandering in the direction of the computer geek. Time and time again Ruki caught himself looking at the other man yet no matter how much he scolded himself for it his eyes always seemed to end up right back there.  
  
“Where do we go?” Aoi’s voice cut through the silence and Ruki jumped. “My idea is obviously out.”  
  
“No fuckin’ shit, Sherlock.” Off to Ruki’s right Wataru cleared his throat reproachfully and Ruki merely offered the other man a shrug and a forced innocent look. The PI sighed and pushed off the far wall, moving slowly and gracefully to once again stand between Ruki and Aoi in silent warning.  
  
Ruki rolled his eyes and tried to think. There were few places he actually trusted, especially now that he knew he’d been followed for the last few days. That ruled out almost everywhere he went and he wasn’t willing to go taking any chances with his usual haunts.  
  
Then it struck him. The perfect place; quiet, out of the way, no questions asked and no witnesses. It wasn’t pretty and would likely bring up a lot of questions with the others, but it would do. It would have to do.  
  
“I know a place we can go,” Ruki said. The words came out with a sigh, the frustration evident in his voice and Ruki cursed himself for the momentary slip. His leg was starting to throb; hell, it was worse than a throb. It was getting to the stage where he felt like it was wrapped in thick barbed wire and someone was pulling at one end, causing the wire to tighten and crush.  
  
“Where?” Wataru asked. Ruki could practically hear the distrust in the others voice. It was written all over his face, clear and obvious to be seen and it irked Ruki. After everything that they’d been through Wataru still expected him to make a run for it; it was somewhat insulting.  
  
“Just fuckin’ c’me ou’ ‘n’ say it,” Ruki slurred, his voice slipping easily back into his old slang. It was a hard thing to shake and after having trained himself so well, spent hours at home talking to himself just to get the words and tones right, it seemed to come even easier than correct words.  
  
His words were met with silence and while Ruki was pretty sure that Aoi had no clue whatsoever as to what he had said, Wataru had understood every word. Ruki could see it in his eyes. That little flashing realization of being caught in his suspicions and for the first time Ruki found himself almost hating Wataru.  
  
“Ya’re expectin’ me ta run, well I ain’t gonna,” Ruki said bluntly. Best just to get it all out in the open now anyways. “My leg’s hurtin’ like all hell and I ain’t in no condition t’run nowhere.” As if to prove his point, Ruki shifted his weight, taking more pressure off his swelled knee and adding to his left leg. Though, that within itself was proving to be a problem. With it pulling all his weight and constantly being the one to step forward it was starting to make his other leg hurt as well; a fact that was becoming all too obvious to the short man.  
  
“This ain’t no trap neither,” Ruki continued. He ignored Aoi completely – a feat that was easy to do and that he was all too happy about – and focused his attention completely on Wataru. The PI still looked sceptical so Ruki went all out and threw in a ‘tired and helpless’ in hopes of appealing to the others human side. “Look, all I want is t’sit for a bit. Be able t’rest. I ain’t got nothin’ planned. I just can’t keep walkin’ ‘round like this.”  
  
It worked a charm, just like Ruki had hoped. Wataru seemed to consider it for a moment, his eyes flicking to Ruki’s knee even though nothing of the bruising could be seen though his pants. Though then again, it was starting to swell like rice in water and already Ruki could feel his pant leg getting tighter.  
  
Finally, after what felt like forever with Ruki trying to keep his balance and resist the urge to lower himself onto the pavement, Wataru actually nodded. It was brisk and curt and followed with the forced words of, “Lead the way,” but at least it was something.  
  
Ruki offered the other a nod in return, a silent show of thanks and slowly edged himself further down the alleyway. He didn’t know this side of town overly well, but he had a good sense of direction. Besides, all these holes were the same; shitty alleyways everywhere, run down buildings and dumpsters. One would lead into another which would lead into another where you would either know where you were or have to admit that you were completely lost. Thankfully Ruki held the hope that he should be able to find his bearings before he had to admit that he needed help.  
  
Choosing left at the corner, Ruki felt his knee wobble with each step. It was getting worse, the pain shooting all the way up his thigh and down to his calf and ankle. Each time he moved it the burning seemed to get worse and he had the horrific feeling that at some stage he’d place his leg down and it would just collapse. No warning, no feeling, just dead muscle and tissue and him on the floor feeling like an idiot.  
  
Footsteps beside him saw Ruki quickly banishing the look of pain from his face and opting for a more relaxed, carefree expression. Questioning eyes locked onto the side of Ruki’s face and Ruki felt himself growing self conscious. Grunting in disapproval, Ruki shot a quick, annoyed side-long glance at Aoi and huffed. “Whadda ya want?”  
  
Aoi seemed to study him for awhile to the point where Ruki was expecting the other to pull out a clipboard and pen and start taking notes. To Ruki it was damnright inconceivable that Aoi had the guts to be even near him, let alone look at him like that.  
  
“Do you need a hand?” Aoi finally asked. He tentatively held his arm out, offering it as support. Ruki looked at it like it was a venomous snake before lifting his gaze up to Aoi’s eyes. Even though they were dark, almost unusually so, there was this little light in them that Ruki had hardly seen in anyone before. Genuine. An honesty and openness which was pretty much nonexistent in this part of town. It was painfully obvious that Aoi had lived a sheltered life. There was a huge difference between criminals and those that committed crimes from the safety of their own homes and Aoi was the perfect example of the latter. Ruki doubted Aoi had even seen a real gun, let alone held one or been shot at before the last few days and it was blindingly obvious that Aoi was one of those people who’d probably never hit someone let along taken a life. And that was a true rarity in these parts.  
  
It was odd to behold and Ruki really didn’t like the feelings that it provoked within him. Ruki was reminded of all the little things he’d done, the lives he had taken and those that probably wished he’d killed them. He and his father may have been fighting to unite the Yakuza fractions but that didn’t mean that either of them had blood-free hands. Some times things just needed to be done and Ruki was smart enough – or trained well enough – to not question orders. Besides, he had the beginnings of his tattoos and in the world of the Yakuza you didn’t get them until you had earned them.  
  
And then here was Aoi, sprouting innocence and naiveté with those big eyes and that damn extended hand, offering to help as if Ruki hadn’t just tried to rip out his throat. Maybe that was it; Aoi hadn’t realised that if it wasn’t for Wataru, he would be dead. Ruki would have killed him and again, just understanding that, made Ruki feel even worse.  
  
In fact, it made Ruki hate Aoi even more.  
  
“Fuck off,” Ruki made a point of spitting the words out as harsh as he could before picking up the pace. Aoi stopped dead in his tracks and Ruki could almost picture the dumbfounded look on his face. Not that Ruki cared in the fucking slightest. He wasn’t one to take handouts nor ask for help and if Aoi thought that a pretty smile was going to get Ruki to change his opinion of him then he sure as hell had something else coming.  
  
Not that Ruki was thinking about Aoi’s pretty smile or anything either.  
  
Grunting in annoyance, Ruki lowered his head, set a scowl onto his face and dragged his limp leg behind him, all the while thinking that it would be a hell of a lot easier if he had something to lean on.  
  


*****

**Chapter Fourteen preview:**

  
  
“Eat,” Wataru finally instructed though Ruki didn’t make a move closer to the food. Neither did Aoi which led Ruki to wonder if the other man wasn’t hungry or was still too scared to cross paths with him. Either way was fine with Ruki.  
  
“What is this?” Ruki asked and he didn’t mean the food. “Hostage rights get a hold of you or something?”  
  
Wataru merely shot him a look that said a hell of a lot more than words and Ruki shut the hell up.  
  


*****


	16. Chapter Fourteen - And he roped himself a couple of sea turtles

Chapter Fourteen

And he roped himself a couple of sea turtles

*****

  
  
Maybe Ruki had drowned himself.  
  
Aoi was starting to think that that was a very valid excuse for why the short man was still locked in the bathroom with water running. Or maybe he had slipped over? Or done one of those classic movie tricks where he’d left the shower running to hide the fact that he had climbed out the window. Though, Aoi reminded himself, they were on the top floor of a ten story building.  
  
Not that he overly cared much anyway. The short man was a pain in the ass to put it nicely. Ruki definitely suffered from ‘short man syndrome’ and Aoi was sure that if anyone was to make a study of the short man, they would conclude that he had one of the most extreme cases. To put it short, Ruki was short and Aoi _knew_ that he was using the word redundantly but he really didn’t care.  
  
He wondered how long he would live if he started cracking short jokes at the other.  
  
Needless to say that being locked in a hotel room with the other man wasn’t on the top of Aoi’s Happy List. Especially not after the scene he’d witnessed with the cops and the lights and sirens at the apartment he’d shared with Miyavi. Maybe it would have been bearable if it was a normal hotel, but Aoi sure as hell drew the line of discomfort at his current situation.  
  
When Ruki had said that he knew a place, Aoi was expecting dingy, dark and stinking of stale alcohol. Something about Ruki just gave off that impression and Aoi was sure that no one would blame him for thinking such things about the other man. Bob the wife beater even came to mind as Ruki’s contact whose place they could hide in. A shovel, a shotgun and some rotting veranda and it would have been the perfect escape for them.  
  
But no. Things apparently weren’t that simple and predicable with Ruki; Aoi had found out the hard way. On the list of all the things his movie freaked mind had been preparing him for, a Love Hotel was right down the bottom of the list. Off the list, even.  
  
Ruki had declared it the ideal place, claiming that the assassins would never think to look for them in such a place. Damn straight they wouldn’t, Aoi had thought, but he’d wisely kept his mouth shut. Especially when Wataru agreed with Ruki. As the PI put it, there were hundreds of Love Hotels in the area so that in itself would buy time. And it wasn’t like the employees in these places made a point of getting to know their customers; most wouldn’t even see who was booking the room so that ensured anonymity.  
  
Apparently it was the perfect idea and Ruki was a god for thinking it.  
  
Out numbered and, in all honestly, out armed, Aoi had tagged along and let Ruki pick a room. The devious look on the shorter man’s face had unsettled Aoi beyond belief and for a terrifying moment he thought Ruki was going to pick the room made out to look like a train. Instead common sense eventually took over which saw him picking the only free room on the top floor, which, according to the floor plan Ruki was staring intently at, was furthest away from the elevator and closest to the fire escape.  
  
As the key slid out of a little slot, Aoi couldn’t help but wonder if the cashier knew what was going on. Did they realise that it was three guys checking in, or did that not really matter in this part of town?  
  
Not that the three of them were there anyway. Wataru pretty much pushed them into the room, took any weapons away from Ruki, saying that it was for Aoi’s own good, told them to behave and then locked the door. Obviously with Wataru on the other side. God only knew what he was doing now and since the moment he’d left, Ruki had locked himself in the bathroom, leaving Aoi to deal with the full glory of the Love Hotel’s design.  
  
The room was quite garish actually; decorated like a pirate ship with a fake deck and a row of cannons aimed off in the direction of the hideously matching bathroom. The mast doubled as a rather questionable stake with chains and cuffs attached. A brightly coloured mural stretched all four walls and something about the paint had Aoi just staring at it.  
  
Sitting on the very edge of the one large bed, Aoi was sure that the painting of the waves was making him seasick. His head seemed to tilt back and forth as he continued to look at it and he wouldn’t have been surprised to find that his entire body was rocking.  
  
After awhile Aoi realised that he hadn’t blinked in a good minute or two. Forcing his eyes closed and the hypnotic effect of the paint from his mind, he stood and started pacing around the room in hopes that it would distract him from his current predicament.  
  
It was a large room, considering where they were, but that hardly made it any more appealing. Plastic sails hung from the ceiling, flapping annoyingly thanks to the purpose placed fan and either the light bulb above the bed was starting to blow or it was meant to give the effect of waning sunlight. Either way, it was infuriating as hell and made Aoi’s eye twitch.  
  
Walking along the right – or should he say starboard – side of the ship, Aoi kicked a cannon and instantly felt better.  
  
No sooner had he done that, the door finally opened and the light switched off. Aoi’s eyes narrowed, taking in the short form that was still covered in darkness. Somehow it really didn’t look like the little man that he was stuck in the room with.  
  
As the figure entered into the light, Aoi found himself letting out a small sigh of relief as his eyes locked onto the all too familiar face. The slow, pained hobble also matched Ruki. But something was different and as dazed as Aoi was, it didn’t take him all that long to catch on.  
  
“I… your hair,” Aoi said, always one for pretty words and charming compliments. It was definitely different. The dreads were gone, the multicoloured twists of hair nowhere to be seen. Instead it was sleek and a dark chestnut red, gently flicked around the face and with a heavy fringe.  
  
Sure, it was obvious that Ruki had just dyed it but the entire thing reminded Aoi of a time when he was younger and had been dragged off to the hairdresser by his father. The woman had gone crazy, hacking at his longish hair until it was short and even and resembling a horrible army cut. Aoi, in his childish innocence, had begged the woman to ‘cut it long again’ but of course, that was not possible. That was what he thought of when looking at Ruki’s perfectly cut hair and comparing it to the dreadlocks.  
  
Maybe the little man, in all his fear inducing rage, had found a way to cut hair long.  
  
Ruki just glared at him, all daggers and hatred and regarded Aoi in a way that made Aoi feel even more stupid for his thoughts.  
  
“What?” Ruki asked as he moved over to the other side of the bed, “never seen a hair piece before? Well the heavy bloody thing is in the bottom of the bin if you wanna go and hug it or try it on or whatever.” Shoving his clothes into the duffle bag he’d somehow managed to keep with him, he continued to mutter under his breath even though Aoi tried to ignore it. “Be my guest. Creepy as all fuck though.”  
  
“That wasn’t your hair?” Aoi wanted to slap himself. Of all the dumb things he could have said, he had to have picked that one. Inwardly he grimaced and braced himself for whatever smart, off the cuff response the smaller man would come back with.  
  
“Is now a bad time to tell you about the Easter Bunny? What if I told you about Santa; please don’t tell me you’ll cry?”  
  
Aoi rolled his eyes. He’d been expecting that but thankfully some part of his brain kicked in and told him not to tell Ruki that. It would only open up a whole new game which Aoi was sure would revolve around him sitting on the bed as Ruki paced back and forth running through his large collection of insults.  
  
“It’s nice,” Aoi finally said. It was too, he wasn’t lying. It made the man look so much younger, so much more like a normal human being and less like some crazed demon just escaped from hell and on a killing spree. Good change; very good change.  
  
“Ya ain’t gettin’ paid by the compliment,” Ruki retorted, a hint of his old gutter slang slipping into the words and lilts of his voice.  
  
“I…” Aoi stuttered, “I didn’t mean it like that. Just…” Aoi shrugged, wondering why he was so intimidated by the little guy. Sure, he had a fiery personality, but what was Ruki going to do? Gnaw his knees off?  
  
Silence followed as Aoi wisely decided to shut his mouth while he was still alive. He’d already figured out that you never got ahead with Ruki – never – and so it was just a matter of being able to stay afloat or be subjected to various forms of sinking. Hell, Aoi was sure that Ruki would even add the needed weights just to see someone go plunging right into the depths of idiocy.  
  
Aoi turned his attention away from Ruki. He may not have known much in regards to the shorter man but he knew enough not to stare. So he turned his eyes elsewhere, not really looking at anything but damn well pretending that he was.  
  
The hacker was all too aware of Ruki’s presence now; he could hear the slightest movements, the way that Ruki pushed his clothes into his bag and the small exhales of breath that suggested that it wasn’t as easy as it looked.  
  
“You were trying to be nice, weren’t you?” Ruki asked after a number of minutes. Aoi jumped at the question. He’d been so intent on finding something else to study that the world of verbal conversation had faded away entirely.  
  
Dark eyes detached themselves from the fascinating spot on the floor and flicked back over to Ruki. The red head was standing casually and openly with none of that tight wound edge that he normally displayed as he looked at Aoi.  
  
“I…”  
  
Ruki gave Aoi a look of reproach and Aoi swallowed the lump that had appeared in his throat. Aoi watched as Ruki shook his head slightly and wondered whether it was at his own thoughts or Aoi’s sad attempt at speech.  
  
Before Aoi realised what was going on, Ruki had taken a step closer and Aoi instantly knew that he was screwed. His knees tensed up, waiting for the bite. Or maybe Ruki was more the type to kick people in the shins. Either way, Aoi was sure this was going to be painful if he didn’t play his cards right.  
  
“No, I was just commenting.” That would do. It was neither agreeing to Ruki nor turning him down; it somehow felt safe.  
  
Ruki smiled up at him, all the while taking another step closer and Aoi made ready to bolt. “You’re a terrible liar.” The words were practically purred out as Ruki slid up to Aoi like water. Each move was so graceful, so fluid that Aoi found it hard to remember that this man had shoved a gun in his face and was probably covered in countless injuries.  
  
Ruki stopped about two inches away though he may as well have not stopped at all. He seemed to radiate a presence that washed over Aoi, clouding his already confused mind and leading his thoughts astray. Gone was the hate for the little man, even the fear seemed to disappear as Aoi was left feeling something else entirely.  
  
Maybe that was how Ruki had survived so long. He excreted some form of hormone that drove people wild if he got within a certain radius. Aoi could certainly feel it; dizzying and intense as it was. It made his head spin and his knees shake for a whole different reason.  
  
The shorter man was so close to him that Aoi could feel the other’s heart beat reverberating through the air. It wasn’t sound, it wasn’t through touch; he could just sense it as if Ruki’s pulse was all that was right in the world. It surrounded them, cloaking them in a bubble of their own which throbbed and moved in time with their breaths.  
  
Ruki looked up at him, eyelids fluttering and lips pushed into a pout. Aoi didn’t need any more encouragement than that. It was a silent demand, a submissive way of telling Aoi exactly what do to.  
  
Both of Aoi’s hands moved forward, limbs hungry like a starving beast, and rested on Ruki’s hips. The smaller man didn’t seem to mind; if anything, he stepped noticeably closer while letting his own tiny hands rest on the folds of Aoi’s elbows.  
  
Aoi licked his lips, looking down into Ruki’s lust filled eyes and feeling himself falling. It was so easy to get lost in those unusual eyes. Aoi had suspected as much the very first time he’d seen them, felt them on his skin like a physical touch and now he had his proof. A simple look and that was it; an ocean and Aoi didn’t have anything that he could hold on to.  
  
Had this been a movie, Aoi was sure that people would be holding their breaths. The camera would have been softly focused, the lights dim and blurred to perfection. That hazy, golden feeling of warmth and surreal tenderness. Ruki would have been some desirable damsel in distress and Aoi the dashing hero which surprised Aoi more than anything. He wasn’t used to being in control, being the top or seme as he’d seen foreign fangirls refer to it.  
  
That wasn’t him… or was it? Miyavi had always been the one to call the shots and before Miyavi there hadn’t really been anyone. One night stands, a few dirty acts for cash and a number of girls, but it was all fundamentally nothing.  
  
But looking down at Ruki as the shorter man looked up at him removed any doubt Aoi may have had. He wanted nothing more than to put all their stupid bickering aside and sink his fingers into that shiny hair and plunge his tongue into that pouting mouth. It made him want to be gentle, treat Ruki like a fragile doll and yet be rough all at the same time. Somehow he got the feeling that Ruki wouldn’t mind that latter option though Aoi had no clue what justification he had for his opinion. It wasn’t like he’d been thinking about it or anything.  
  
In fact he hadn’t been thinking about any of this and if he really wanted to dissect the situation he wasn’t even sure that Ruki had actually stopped trying to kill him. The little, somewhat embarrassing scene they’d made in the alleyway was still fresh in Aoi’s mind and even he couldn’t forget that he had kicked the smaller man in his weakest place. If Aoi couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt over that then he was damn sure that Ruki wouldn’t have dispelled his anger.  
  
Maybe that was what this was. A ploy for Aoi to let his guard down. Ruki was holding a knife behind his back that he was just itching to stab it into Aoi. That, however, would have been impossible since Aoi could see both of the little man’s hands and they remained pleasantly knife free. Still wouldn’t put it past the little yakuza brat to find a way though.  
  
If not, if Ruki remained agreeably knife-free, then it would be like a scene from an action movie where after great trials and tribulations, blood and epic amounts of bullets, the hero and the fem fatal launch at each other. He’d heard somewhere that relationships that start in light of intense circumstances never last but movies seemed to beg to differ. That was until you got to the sequel and everything changed because one of the original actors refused to reprise their role.  
  
Again Aoi scolded himself for his wild thoughts. Here he was locked in a Love Hotel with the gorgeous son of a Yakuza lord looking up at him like he was the most desirable man in the world and Aoi was thinking movies. While it was phenomenal that he could think anything while his gaze was locked with the other, it really wasn’t what he wanted to be contemplating at such an important moment.  
  
Ruki rose himself up on his tiptoes, his eyes all dark and hidden under his fringe and eyelashes. Aoi found himself swallowing rapidly, trying to clear the lump in his throat and stop his mouth from being so damn dry.  
  
None of this made sense but Aoi oddly couldn’t care less. If this was a movie or a book he’d be screwing his nose up in disgust at the impractical turn of events. Nothing happened this way. It was ridiculous and the sort of thing that you saw in cheesy romance movies and bad fan written internet stories. Real life didn’t happen this way; you didn’t just look at someone and fall in love. It was impossible to spend a few hours with someone or even a day and realise that all you ever wanted was them. It wasn’t practical and even Aoi with his computer nurtured life knew that.  
  
But then why did Ruki’s hands feel so good against his arms, even through his shirt?  
  
Ruki’s hand lifted and Aoi thought the smaller man was going to touch his cheek and his heart pretty much stopped. Almost. Ruki’s tiny hand glided over air, tracing invisible patterns that followed the contours of Aoi’s face without ever once making contact. It was a tease, a mockery of the physical contact that Aoi’s skin seemed to scream for and made him go weak at the knees.  
  
And then the film got caught in the projector, the cogs turned too quickly and the heat of it all ate the reel up with a flaming mouth.  
  
The screen went black, the soundtrack had long since come to a scratching end and the only thing that could be heard in the entire movie theatre was some punk assed kid saying, “Dream on,” before the harsh houselights flickered back into life.  
  
“Nothing in life is free,” Ruki added while flicking Aoi’s forehead; hard. A cruel smirk twisted across his face as he took a step back. “Especially not for you.”  
  
And with that Aoi knew that he was sinking. Descending right into that darkness that marked defeat and defined stupidity.  
  


*****

  
  
Ruki was pretending to be a pirate.  
  
It was quite fun actually, though fucked if he’d ever let Aoi know that. As far as the other man was concerned, all Ruki was doing was sitting on the cannon and minding his own business. But no, to Ruki, he was aiming the barrel of the dangerous weapon at Aoi’s head and sporadically lighting the fuse. There was no end to the amusement of picturing Aoi getting blown up and Ruki was hard pressed not to laugh at his own thoughts.  
  
It was probably rather childish but Ruki felt he reserved the right to act like a kid. Besides, Aoi had brought it on himself. He really had and in a way it was Ruki’s duty to make sure the damn computer nerd paid for his idiocy.  
  
Kicking his heels against the side of the ship, Ruki planted his hands on the front of the fake cannon and tried to find a way to entertain himself. Sure, the room was somewhat amusing unto itself but even that got boring after awhile. Dark eyes, for once contact free, roamed over the room and found nothing that he didn’t already know was there.  
  
At first it had been all dandy. He’d locked himself in the bathroom, spent about an hour getting his extensions out which wasn’t an easy feat and had then proceeded to redye his hair. It had been his plan all along – to change his appearance – but he’d planned for it to happen once he was out of the city. But desperate times called for desperate measures and so he jumped the gun and prayed that it would help keep his identity somewhat of a mystery.  
  
The shower had been nice too. He’d stayed in there long after the dye had washed out, soothing his tired muscles and bruised skin while trying his hardest to ignore the plastic coated shackles hanging from the ceiling. Apparently people who fantasized about pirates were kinky little things.  
  
When he had finally managed to convince himself that he was turning into a prune and needed to get out, he had spent some time prodding carefully at all the marks starting to darken and swell with blood. One rib in particular was causing him a shit load of pain every time he breathed and he was almost one hundred percent certain that it was at least fractured. Thankfully he wasn’t coughing up blood anymore and while breathing hurt it was more just a tightening of his chest than what he imagined a punctured lung would feel like. Nothing else seemed broken and for the most part he was still whole and functioning so he told himself to suck it in, deal with it and move on.  
  
Obviously he had to go into the room eventually and when he had he was abruptly met with the idiot saying something that made Ruki’s already abysmal opinion of the man just plummet. Ruki just tried to grit his teeth and bear it while telling himself that while Aoi was stupid, he was somewhat larger and thus it probably wasn’t in Ruki’s best interest to try and drag the man into the bathroom and drown him under the shower.  
  
And that left them were they were now, sitting there in silence and with Ruki’s mind wandering all over the place and yet thinking about nothing at the same time.  
  
Aoi was skulking in the corner, his head down and his hands in his lap. He had that whole almost serene look to him as he just continued to stare at the floor. Ruki wondered what he was thinking and then quickly dismissed the idea. No point in learning the thought processes of a fool.  
  
Neither of them had said a word to each other since Ruki had broken their little moment, or whatever Aoi wanted to call it. It sure as hell hadn’t been a moment to Ruki though he still couldn’t work out what had possessed him to play the other man like that. Not that it hadn’t been fun in its strange way but then all that, Ruki told himself, was completely irrelevant anyway. The point of the matter was that the last three hours had been spent in retaliative silence, at least on Aoi’s part.  
  
Ruki hadn’t been so silent. He had paced, cursed his leg, tried to pop it and then paced some more. Ruki had also tried to pick the lock of the door which had proven useless. Following that he had muttered under his breath, sworn like a sailor, kicked the same cannon that Aoi had – though he didn’t know that – and had eventually given up and sat straddling the barrel of the fake cannon and trying not to think of what people who hired this room used the prop for.  
  
Aoi on the other hand hadn’t even moved. Not once. He just sat there and it annoyed Ruki all the more. For a time Ruki had contemplated small talk but he’d quickly dismissed that once he realised that the other man would have to speak in order for that to happen and Ruki didn’t much feel like listening.  
  
And so the time dragged on. Ruki started humming to himself for awhile before even that got boring. Especially once Aoi kept shooting him this odd side on look that made him overly paranoid. Wasn’t made any easier when Ruki noted the other guy’s fingers were tapping on his knee. So humming was right out else the idiot sitting on the bed might decide that they were friends and want to start a band or something.  
  
On the topic of Ruki’s boredom, the Yakuza lord didn’t even know why he had to be locked in this stupid room with the simpleton who ruined his life anyway. Wataru hadn’t said anything before pushing them inside, giving them – well, Ruki – that look that said that they’d better both be alive when he came back and then locked the door. Just locked it. Nothing more, nothing less and there was Ruki stuck, bored and feeling generally homicidal.  
  
It wasn’t like he could even sleep. He had too much on his mind, not to mention that the moron was sitting on the bed and Ruki would probably have to sleep with one eye open anyway. To say that Ruki wasn’t impressed would have been an understatement and he was sure as hell going to give Wataru a piece of his mind once the other man came back.  
  
As if his thoughts were being broadcast to the whole fucking neighbourhood, the door finally opened, revealing Wataru and a huge plastic bag and Ruki could have jumped for joy. Not that he was overly happy to see the other man but it sure as fuck beat the hell out of sitting there staring at the badly painted walls and trying his damn hardest to ignore Aoi. Besides, at least now Ruki had someone to argue with who was at least somewhat intelligent and who wasn’t going to defeat Ruki with sheer stupidity.  
  
“Where the fuck were you?” Ruki asked. Aoi’s head snapped up, his eyes moving to the door as Ruki pushed himself to his feet. His leg still wasn’t much better though at least he could move somewhat faster on it now. Fast enough to make it off the boat and over to the PI before Wataru could respond. Getting right into Wataru’s face, Ruki set his lips into a thin line and glared at the man, demanding an answer.  
  
Ruki scowled as Wataru ignored him outright before directing his attention further into the room. “Aoi, you still alive?” Ruki scoffed and muttered something under his breath that had Wataru glaring at him again.  
  
“I’m fine,” Aoi called back though even Ruki noted that he sounded tired. Good, he thought stubbornly as Wataru brushed past him and headed towards the small table. It was set on the blue tiles between the ship and the bathroom and Ruki had to wonder about the intelligence of that. Who the hell had ever heard of a table and chair set floating in water anyway? Maybe if it had been off to the side, sitting on some sand coloured tiles or something; either way Ruki wasn’t convinced that the person who had designed this room was in their right mind.  
  
Wataru dropped the bag in the centre of the table and went to lean up against the starboard side of the fake ship. Ruki eyed the other carefully; there was something different about the PI which Ruki couldn’t quite place. Something calmer or at least not quite as tightly wound. It only took a moment for Ruki’s mind to leap to impractical conclusions, all of which revolved around Wataru getting lucky while he was out or some deep, inner insanity within the man.  
  
“Eat,” Wataru finally instructed though Ruki didn’t make a move closer to the food. Neither did Aoi which led Ruki to wonder if the other man wasn’t hungry or was still too scared to cross paths with him. Either way was fine with Ruki.  
  
“What is this?” Ruki asked and he didn’t mean the food. “Hostage rights get a hold of you or something?”  
  
Wataru merely shot him a look that said a hell of a lot more than words and Ruki shut the hell up. Plus, he was hungry; may as well play the part of the good little hostage and do as he was told.  
  
Ruki hobbled over to the table and lowered himself into one of the chairs. It took a hell of a lot more effort then he would have expected but eventually he was there, with his right leg sticking out straight like some tension cable. Raiding the bag he found a couple of plastic containers filled with vegetables and noodles and three sets of chopsticks. Picking the most interesting looking dish, Ruki pulled off the lid, separated the wooden chopsticks and started eating. It wasn’t a particularly tasteful dish but it sure as hell beat the rumbling in his stomach.  
  
Failing to see any reason to display elegance, Ruki ploughed into the food, shovelling it into his mouth in a way that suggested that he wasn’t the most delicate of eaters even when he tried. He could feel Wataru’s eyes on him and every now and then a shiver ran up his spine which he narrowed down to being caused by Aoi’s attention. It was strange that he could feel it whenever Aoi looked over, but Ruki gathered that it was due to his undying hatred for the other man. A feeling that was no doubt returned and reflected in the intensity of the others gaze.  
  
“Eat.” Wataru was doing well for the monosyllabic commands tonight and Ruki found himself rolling his eyes.  
  
“Not hungry.” Ruki inwardly shrugged at Aoi’s response, gathering that if the other man didn’t eat it left more for him which was always a good thing.  
  
Ruki expected Wataru to say something intelligent, remind Aoi that he may not get another chance for food any time soon but the private investigator, for all his motherly ways, let him down. Not that Ruki gave a flying fuck but it was somewhat odd not always being right about the man’s actions. It irked Ruki in a way that even he didn’t fully understand.  
  
“Did you two come up with anything while I was gone?” Crunching down on a particularly large piece of broccoli Ruki rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Did you two even speak?”  
  
Not wanting to give Aoi the opportunity to butt in first, Ruki gulped down the half chewed vegetable and buried his chopsticks back into the dish, searching for some chicken. “We tried not too, you know,” Ruki said, nodding as he went as if assuring himself of his own words. “Made things easier.”  
  
“Great…” Ruki heard Wataru clear his throat and the sound of the other man most likely pushing his hands into his pockets. Without even looking up Ruki could tell that the other man was pissed, but fuck that. If Wataru honestly thought that he and Aoi were going to sit there with the butchers paper and markers and brainstorm while he was gone then the PI apparently had a shitload to learn. Things didn’t work that way, not in a situation like this. Besides, Ruki had the inklings of a headache, his leg was throbbing and he was looking like some walking bruise under his shirt. Talking to the village idiot over there was really the last of his pressing concerns.  
  
“So we’re still at square one?”  
  
Chewing on a hunk of chicken, Ruki nodded and let out a perky “Yep,” just to annoy the other man.  
  
“Actually I have an idea,” Aoi said and Ruki merely rolled his eyes. Just great, an idea from Mr. Brains over there. That was just what they needed. Another sure fire way to get them almost killed while acting like an idiot. Ruki wasn’t too sure what Aoi’s deal was but Ruki would swear that Aoi had either played too many computer games or seen too many movies; maybe even both.  
  
“Oh, let me guess,” Ruki interjected, “Close our eyes, run and hope for the best.” Ruki rolled his eyes and huffed, putting his chopsticks down. Suddenly he didn’t feel as hungry anymore. “Fuck that.”  
  
“That wasn’t what I was going to-”  
  
“Give it a rest.” Ruki pushed himself to his feet, sending Aoi a filthy look in the process. Small hands clasped behind his back and he started to pace back and forth, walking the length of the room and thus across the width of the ship. Brows furrowing, he kept his head angled down even as he absentmindedly stretched onto his tiptoes and flicked at one of the cuffs that dangled from the ships mast. As the chain swung with all the rocking movement of a ship, Ruki returned his hand behind him and continued walking.  
  
“We need to work out how to get rid of the assassins,” Ruki started muttering. Ruki was only sure about one thing at the moment and that was that he wanted out of the city. Everything else could go to hell as far as he was concerned. However, he wanted the assassins dead and gone before he left as he didn’t much fancy living in fear of them resurfacing or having to run from them the rest of his life.  
  
“You’re not going anywhere,” Wataru said quickly and Ruki had the unsettling feeling that maybe the PI was reading his mind. In a way Ruki had been hoping that Wataru would have forgotten about his little threat but Ruki should have known that he couldn’t be that lucky.  
  
“I know,” Ruki lied, “But we ain’t gonna find Yuusuke if them assassins are always lurking, right.” Changing his course, Ruki walked across the decking and came to a stop at the barricade that posed as the side of the ship. Wataru was standing below, his feet on the blue titles which lead to the bathroom and no doubt were meant to be seen as water. Bending at the waist, Ruki rested both elbows on the banister and brought his head down next to Wataru’s.  
  
“So in order to find Yuusuke we need to work out how to avoid the assassins.” Ruki hated repeating himself but he tried to keep the venom from his voice. “What do you make of them?”  
  
Wataru’s eyes locked with his and Ruki could practically see the thoughts whirling about in the other’s mind. “They’re good,” Wataru said slowly, as if plucking each word out of that inner whirlwind. Behind him, Ruki could hear Aoi huff a bit and the scrape of the tip of his shoe against the wood of the decking.  
  
“Each move they have made has been perfectly executed. They stay under the radar while still letting their presence be known. The one after Aoi is yet to even show his face.” Wataru leant further back against the wooden side of the ship, his legs crossing at the ankles and his arms folded over his chest. Ruki knew him well enough to know that what he was seeing was Wataru’s ‘thinking pose’ for lack of better description. Maybe it had something to do with being an ex-cop or it was just something in his head, but Wataru maintained that he thought better while standing and had once said that his thinking ability increased by forty percent if he was in the demonstrated position. Ruki thought it was all a bunch of bullshit but he wasn’t about to call Wataru on it. Besides, at the moment he needed Wataru’s mind because his own was drawing an alarming blank.  
  
After what felt like a lifetime worth of silence, Wataru continued on. “I’ve been listening in on the police feeds. They have no clues other than the bullets of each assassin which, of course, are of the best make. Guns are the latest design so they’re damn well funded.”  
  
“Figures,” Ruki muttered. His hand went to the back of his head, his fingers curled and extended to scratch at his dreadlocks only he hit air. Quirking an eyebrow, Ruki hid the action by burying his hand into his free locks, trying to get used to the change. That was the worst thing about changing his appearance so drastically; he had to adjust. While it sounded like nothing, to a well trained eye an action like that could easily give him away.  
  
“There was one interesting thing though,” Wataru said, his neck twisting so he could look up at Ruki. Ruki’s eyebrow rose on its own accord; a silent request for the PI to keep going. “In regards to escaping the train station; it wasn’t just luck that got you out of there.”  
  
The telltale sound of shuffling told Ruki that Aoi was moving closer, most likely inching along the bed to hear better. “Well it sure as fuck wasn’t skill.” That stopped Aoi in his tracks and Ruki merely sent the taller man a forced, sickeningly sweet smile. Nibbling at his lip and ignoring the heated look from the man behind him, Ruki frowned down at Wataru and asked him to elaborate before Aoi had the chance to open his stupid mouth.  
  
“There was another shooter.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Wataru pinched at the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “One of the cops working the scene just reported the finding of a different bullet casing. They found some by the escalators down to the tracks and half a dozen more in the tunnels. Apparently someone distracted your gunman which is how you guys got so lucky.”  
  
Ruki’s mind went blank. Wataru’s words made sense in a way and now that he thought about it, the gun shots he’d heard while stuck in that room with Aoi had sounded different. Like Aoi, Ruki had just assumed that the assassin was taking out the rest of the security cameras. Even though the idea of a distraction explained a lot away, there was one question that needed to be answered before anything would make sense.  
  
“But who?”  
  
Wataru’s head turned further before the man apparently gave up and moved away from the wall. Unfolding his legs and arms, the PI moved to the stairs and ascended them. Ruki watched as Wataru came to a stop near Aoi, who had his hands folded in his lap and his dark eyes locked onto the investigator.  
  
“Maybe you can help clear that up,” Wataru offered though the push in his tone was painfully obvious. Ruki tensed, turning himself so that the small of his back lent against the ship’s railing. Bracing one hand on the barrier, he started chewing at the thumb nail of his other hand as he watched the scene before him.  
  
Aoi shook his head, his eyes lost somewhere between clear and suspicious. Ruki knew that Wataru was grasping at straws but he didn’t have the heart to say it. Besides, in a strange way, it was somewhat satisfying watching the taller man squirm under the intense scrutiny of the PI.  
  
“I have no clue.” It was amazing just how much Aoi seemed to be able to control his emotions and hide his inner thoughts. Provided he had any. It fascinated Ruki to no ends. Watching the man sitting there, his hands twisting and his knuckles going white from holding onto each other was a sure sign of keeping something secret and yet his eyes and his words were so perfectly crisp and honest. Maybe he didn’t have anything to hide and was just a nervous, fidgety person by nature or maybe Ruki was altogether wrong though that would be a surprise. Perhaps it was a case of Ruki’s original thoughts being right; it was easy to hide things when there was nothing going on inside your head and Aoi sure as hell didn’t reflect too many smarts.  
  
Either way, Ruki opted to shut the hell up as Wataru continued to press the other for information even though he knew it was pointless.  
  
“Come on Aoi.” Ruki almost laughed at the PI’s words. They were soft and encouraging, as if talking to a wounded animal and trying to get it to crawl out from under that sofa. Despite that, Wataru’s look was dark and border mean as he regarded the sitting man.  
  
“Who do I know who would willingly step into the middle of gunfight?” Aoi returned the dark look, his head on the side which made his heavy fringe touch his shoulder.  
  
For the briefest moment Ruki saw something dark in the other man, something sinister like a trapped beast. It was clawing its way out from within, stretching the surface of Aoi’s mask and as ludicrous as it sounded in that very moment Ruki had the intelligence to fear the other man.  
  
Ruki sighed and decided to take pity on the darkhaired fool before he lost his cool and snapped. If there was some dark passenger lingering within Aoi, even Ruki didn’t think egging it on was the smartest thing at the moment.  
  
“He obviously don’t know nothin’.” The slanged words were out of his lips just as Aoi’s eyes turned on him. But instead of being thankful or showing any tiny signs of gratitude, they were dark and unreadable, yet tinted with the faintest flicks of hatred. “Just sayin’,” Ruki said, plastering a condescending grin onto his face as he stared coldly back.  
  
Between them, Wataru sighed and turned his back to Aoi. He stood with his feet apart, his hands behind his back and his head high as he stared out at the painted wall and the front of the ship. Ruki saw him like a sea captain, watching over his men and plotting the course for the vessel.  
  
Well, a captain of a sinking ship that was going nowhere but down.  
  
“Maybe it was just someone random,” Ruki heard himself saying the words though he hardly believed them. It was more just the need to break up the silence with something. Off to his left Aoi sighed and fidgeted. “What?”  
  
Aoi’s eyes shot up to meet Ruki’s and despite his earlier thoughts, Ruki did his best to look annoyed and angry, leading the other man on.  
  
“And you get up me for stupid ideas,” Aoi muttered, the darkness in his tone unable to be missed. “Why would anyone do that? Throw themselves into a fight that wasn’t about them?”  
  
“That’s a good question, Sparky,” Ruki shot back, the snide words leaving his mouth before he even thought about them. “Maybe you should try asking yourself that, Mr. ‘I’m gonna run at a gunman even though he ain’t shooting at me’. I don’t remember that being your fight.”  
  
Aoi chuckled, catching Ruki off guard and Ruki knew that his face showed his surprise. “Funny,” Aoi snidely muttered with a smirk bordering on the sardonic, “I don’t remember you doing too well with the running thing.” It was impressive how narky the other man’s tone was and Ruki found himself flinching despite his rage at the words. “Let’s just say that there is a reason you’re here now.”  
  
“Oh yes, your brilliant thought process of ‘run’ really saved my life. Cause fuck, god knows that I have too much intelligence to think of that one myself.” Moving over to his bag Ruki muttered incoherently as he scrounged through it and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. “I don’t remember asking for you fucking help anyway.”  
  
Placing the unlit smoke between his lips, Ruki fired up his lighter and touched the flame to the tip. It glowed red as he inhaled, the paper burning down as the tobacco turned to ash.  
  
“You can’t smoke in here.”  
  
“If ya don’t like it than get the fuck out.” Ruki rolled his eyes and proceeded to ignore Aoi. As far as he was concerned the conversation was over; end of discussion.  
  
Something about the taller man just made Ruki’s blood boil. Violent flashes of beating Aoi’s head into the wall filled Ruki’s mind only to be quickly replaced with visions of throttling Aoi until he turned blue. Either option was sounding highly appealing at this point in time and Ruki was all for giving it a try. Though, as always, Wataru butted in and ruined all his fun.  
  
“Are you both done?” Ruki watched as Wataru turned, his hands still clasped behind his back and his face just as impassive as ever. The PI was really starting to get on Ruki’s nerves and the little man resolved that once he had dealt with Aoi he’d turn his attention on Wataru.  
  
Neither Ruki nor Aoi said anything. Out of the corner of his eye, Ruki could see Aoi just sitting there, staring at his hands like they weren’t his own; Ruki merely let a puff of smoke float into the air as his response.  
  
“Good,” Wataru continued. He had that scowl on his face, that serious look that Ruki had seen time and time again, especially when he came stumbling into the PI’s office with a bruise the size of China on his face.  
  
Ruki had always wondered about Wataru, pondered what the other man would have been like in his earlier days. He knew that the PI was somewhere in his late twenties, maybe even closer to his thirties and he somehow reflected the things he had seen in his life. It can’t have been easy being a cop, especially not in this part of town and especially not one that was publicly disgraced. Even Ruki couldn’t imagine some of the hardships the other man must have been through; friend to neither the force nor the gangs, it must have been a rather solitary existence which was likely accredited to his antisocial tendencies.  
  
Besides, Ruki had the feeling that Wataru had his own little inner psycho; it was just that he was more accustomed to hiding it.  
  
“You two can bicker all you want later; I won’t even stand in your way. Just first let’s concentrate and work out what we are going to do about these hired guns.” Watching Wataru Ruki couldn’t help but wonder what the other was thinking. He hardly seemed as stressed as he had before but he still had that pressing sort of urgency about him that put Ruki on edge.  
  
Studying Wataru’s face, Ruki tried to read what he saw there. It was almost impossible with the way that Wataru never seemed to look stressed; he never showed his emotions unless it was some bizarre, extreme circumstance. Yet there was something off and Ruki couldn’t quite place it.  
  
“What happened to finding Yuusuke?” Ruki asked the words slowly, sucking on his cigarette as soon as he was done. His head was raised slightly, his chin pointing upwards as he looked down his nose at the other man.  
  
Wataru looked right back at him, cool and calm and not at all distressed. Ruki blinked and narrowed his eyes. “We previously established that we need to be rid of the assassins before we can safely find him.”  
  
Ruki felt himself smirk, evil and triumphant though he didn’t know why. He felt like something had just clicked, a missing piece of a puzzle that he didn’t understand. Baffled himself, he committed the feeling to memory as he regarded his cigarette like a long lost friend. “Convenient, isn’t it?” he said, watching as the tip quickly burned away in a thin trail of greyish smoke. “So, the assassins…”  
  
“I did say that I had an idea.” Ruki grimaced and pulled his eyes from his cancerous addiction. When he had left his sentence hanging he was inviting Wataru to play along with him, not the moron. Wasn’t there some proverb about not following the village idiot; Ruki couldn’t remember it at the time and even if he was making it up he felt that there damnwell should be one.  
  
“Oh god, here we go.” Ruki sucked in a deep breath and held it, feeling the smoke swell his lungs. Slowly he let it trail out from between his lips, filling the room with the low-lying, sticky cloud. “I’m just _dying_ to hear this one; should be worth a hoot and a half, so please, Aoi, _enlighten_ us!”  
  
“We draw them out.” Aoi’s voice was quiet, his eyes still locked on the floor and Ruki huffed again just at the sight. He looked like some scolded kid, terrified of being told off again and yet determined to rat on his accomplice. It was pathetic.  
  
“That’s it?” Ruki asked. “Great fucking plan, Sparky. It’s right up there with-”  
  
“Ruki!” As always, it was Wataru’s voice that cut into Ruki’s jibe. If Aoi was the scolded kid then Wataru was the parent and Ruki didn’t want to know where that left him even though he had a sneaking suspicion. The bully, maybe, or the kid who had actually done the wrong thing and was letting Aoi take the wrap. Not that Ruki gave a damn and if anything, he’d happily sell Aoi out for his own sake. It was Aoi’s fault that they were in the stupid mess anyway.  
  
“Fuck off!” Ruki cocked his head to the side, flicked his ash onto the boat’s decking and gave Wataru his best unamused look. He could see the fight swelling up in the other, see it building and he did his best to encourage it. Maybe if Wataru got angry enough he’d let something slip cause Ruki sure as hell felt that he was being kept out of the loop regarding something.  
  
Wataru’s mouth opened and closed a few times, his eyes narrowing and Ruki swore that they got darker. The man’s right hand twitched and Ruki was sure he had won. That was until Wataru’s mouth opened and yet Aoi’s voice filled the room.  
  
“For fuck’s sake, shut the hell up for once.” Ruki’s head snapped back at the viciousness in Aoi’s tone, his quiet challenge against Wataru all but forgotten. He wouldn’t have picked Aoi as one to get any sort of expression other than fucking stupid into his voice, let alone such anger. However, despite that, it was clear and harsh and Aoi didn’t allow Ruki any time to try and get his bearings before he continued the onslaught.  
  
“Get over yourself for a goddamn minute and look at the situation realistically. They are attacking publicly. The mall, the train station; they know where we live and yet they made no move against us. Am I the only one who doesn’t think that makes sense?” Aoi’s dark eyes briefly met Ruki’s and the smaller man felt instantly inadequate. Thankfully Aoi looked away first; Ruki watched as Aoi’s attention fixed on Wataru for slightly longer before flicking back down onto his feet and the floor.  
  
“It’s all meant to be public.” Aoi shrugged like it was no big deal and Ruki felt like an idiot as he finally caught up. As much as he hated to admit it, the computer nerd had a point and judging by the look on Wataru’s face even the PI was just catching up too. Seemed pretty damn obvious now and that made Ruki feel even worse.  
  
“What are you suggesting?” Wataru asked. The hesitation was evident in his voice but at the same time Ruki caught a glimmer of something else. Something like interest, hope, anticipation or a mixture of all three. Trust the damn brick wall to fall due to something that Aoi said.  
  
“We draw them out. We give them somewhere public to attack us but we make it our choice.” The conviction in Aoi’s voice was unmistakable and yet so was that slight waver of uncertainty. “We take them down on our own turf.”  
  
“I know the perfect place.” Ruki sure as fuck didn’t know why he was saying that. He _did_ know the perfect place but with those words he had fundamentally agreed with the idiots plan. Maybe that was Aoi’s trick to staying alive. His stupidity rubbed off on others until he could beat them – or have them beaten – with experience.  
  
After all, there's nothing more dangerous than a resourceful idiot and standing there looking at Aoi in all his lip biting glory, Ruki realised that this was true. He may have been a fuckwit, a moron and any number of insulting terms, but somewhere in that movie freaked mind was a little spark of intelligence. Random, crazy and spontaneous intelligence but intelligence none the less.  
  
It horrified Ruki to no ends and on some extreme scale of things, as he looked at the darkhaired man who was now looking back at him, Ruki felt like he was looking in a mirror. Somehow it wasn’t a surprise when Ruki opened his mouth again, his words coming without thought and purely through impulse. “If this stands any chance of working we’ll need supplies; weapons.”  
  
This time it was Wataru who spoke up, his voice even and calm. He didn’t say anything about the plan but his words were enough to show that he supported the idea and Ruki wondered who was the bigger fool; the one who suggested it, the one who supported it or the one who didn’t comment. “I know the perfect weapons dealer.”  
  


*****

**Chapter Fifteen preview:**

  
  
Aoi found himself wondering if the weapons dealer ever got annoyed at himself. It couldn’t have been easy living when every third sentence out of your mouth was a corny pickup line. Although, then again, as Aoi dutifully reminded himself, every second thought of his was to do with movies or somehow related to fish, so maybe the arms dealer and him had more in common than Aoi would have liked.  
  


*****


	17. Chapter Fifteen - ”Welcome to my lair,” the Spider said to the Fly

Chapter Fifteen

”Welcome to my lair,” the Spider said to the Fly

*****

  
  
Aoi was starting to get used to this. Again the movies lied to him but in a way he’d been expecting it all along.  
  
Weapons dealer; by definition alone they were meant to be tough thugs with arms the size of tree trunks and one or two interesting scars on their faces. They were meant to talk like Ruki, be dark and shady and smell like they hadn’t washed in days. Which thankfully Aoi was no longer a victim of; a hot shower at the hotel and a change of clothes had done wonders to wipe out the evidence of his mass murder spree and any lingering dumpster nasties.  
  
Not that that had anything to do with what he was faced with in the way of the arms runner. What greeted him was nothing of the stereotypical sort. To put it simply it wasn’t Bob the wife beater in the slightest and while he was partially expecting it, he still felt cheated. It was one of those truths that he thought the movies would have gotten right, like the importance of contingency plans or something.  
  
Then again, maybe with this guy it was more convenient that way, proving that while art may imitate life, life didn’t normally mirror art.  
  
Not to say that the guy wasn’t creepy in his own right, because he was. In a strange happy bivouac sort of way that suggested at a few loose screws or far too much alcohol. Or both. And with the way the guy was standing in the doorway, arm stretched up to grip the top of it while gushing all over Ruki’s hair was the perfect example of Aoi’s previous thought.  
  
That was another thing. Aoi was starting to feel that his sheltered life was biting him in the ass. Since leaving Miyavi’s place the only person he had known was Wataru. Wataru and Wataru alone now that Yuusuke was out of the picture. That was it. Wataru and Ruki however, well, they were the sorts of people who couldn’t walk down the street without bumping into nine people they knew.  
  
The weapons dealer was the perfect example. From what Aoi could gather Wataru knew the man on a professional level while Ruki seemed to be bubbling with happiness about seeing his friend and that within itself was weird; Ruki having a friend and someone wanting to be Ruki’s friend, though, Aoi cynically thought, Ruki probably didn’t go around shoving guns into everyone’s faces. Or breaking into a full out bitch fight with everyone he met.  
  
Aoi felt special in a really shitty sort of way.  
  
But all that brought him back to the present and the strange excuse for a weapons dealer who was currently running his hand through Ruki’s hair while Ruki almost outright purred in response.  
  
Weird.  
  
“This is nice,” the guy said, a huge grin splitting his face and Aoi instantly saw him for a Cheshire Cat. “Speaking of nice,” the man’s eyes flicked up and landed on Aoi. Even though his hand was still nestled in Ruki’s hair who, for his part, was still lapping up the attention, Aoi could feel the weight of the arms runners’ full attention turned on him and it struck him instantly as creepy. Well, he was creepy for a whole different reason outside of the world of guns and maniacs with guns. “Who’s your friend?”  
  
Aoi shuffled his feet, completely unintentional but at least it gave him something to do other than stare back into those honey coloured eyes. He heard Ruki scoff and caught the quick glance that the short man sent in his direction. “Fucker ain’t no friend’a mine,” and for whatever reason Aoi felt his heart sink a tiny bit more.  
  
“Uruha, this is Aoi. Aoi, Uruha,” Wataru said with a dismissive wave of his hand, thankfully stopping Aoi from having to speak himself. It was a good introduction, unbiased and without any snarky additives. Aoi hated that trend of introducing people with thoughtful details added to the end of their names. It was stupid and insulting and knowing his luck he’d get something like, ‘this is Aoi. He’s a screw up who lives through computers.’ Call Aoi mental but that wasn’t the best way to get introduced to anyone.  
  
Uruha gave Aoi another quick glance and Aoi tried not to think anything of it. In some strange sort of way the tall blonde reminded him of Miyavi. Not in so much in character – though Aoi hardly knew him – but in mannerisms and stature. It was unnerving, and so when Uruha finally stood to the side and invited them in, Aoi found himself frowning and waiting until last.  
  
“Why hello, Aoi,” Uruha said with a sing-song note to his voice. Again Aoi noticed the way that Uruha's eyes swept him up and down and instantly felt strange and somewhat wronged by the action.  
  
“Hi.” Boring, short and straight to the point, Aoi stepped wide around the taller man and almost brained himself on the doorframe in order to keep his distance.  
  
“Nice to meet you,” Uruha added, stepping closer as he pulled the door closed. Something about the way he flicked the lock, slid the chain into the catch and then proceeded to turn each of the deadbolts attached to the door made Aoi nervous.  
  
“Likewise.”  
  
“Oh, it will be,” Uruha said quickly and with a knowing smirk. Aoi took another step away and this time almost bowled Ruki clear off his feet. The little man looked damnright annoyed at Aoi’s proximity and so Aoi found himself taking a step back and placing himself in harms way again as Uruha walked passed. Too close for comfort and Aoi felt the other’s arm brush against his lower back as he went. Honestly, Aoi didn’t know which man was more intimidating.  
  
Uruha walked further into the room and since Wataru and Ruki both stayed put, Aoi gathered that it would be smart to do the same. The arms dealer pulled a chair out on the opposite side of a desk that looked like it had, in all honestly, just been randomly shoved into the middle of the living room. Uruha took a seat, graceful and dignified, folded his arms on the edge of the table and simply regarded them with interest.  
  
“How did things go the other night?” Wataru finally asked. It was fucking weird, even to Aoi and his movie freaked mind. Maybe it was again a case of having seen too many movies but Aoi really doubted that you were meant to just openly chat with someone you were doing dirty business with. Something about it really didn’t seem normal or sane but one look at his companions was enough to have Aoi questioning why he expected such customary actions anyway. Fucked if he could find anything normal, sane or even just stereotypical about them.  
  
“Good-o!” Uruha sounded generally perky and happy and Aoi could almost picture the other man just bouncing on the spot for no apparent reason. It was unnerving. As Uruha continued to prattle on, he flapped his arm about this way and that, as if the flailing limb told more of a story than his words. Although, considering the way he spoke Aoi was willing to consider the truth in that statement. Already he could tell that Uruha was prone to rather sizable bouts of elaboration.  
  
“…and it took like, five hours to get the bloody thing open and of course as soon as the lid was off it was guns pointed everywhere. I swear people think these sorts of things come cheap these days; ‘yes, lets wave our pieces around like there’s no tomorrow.’ But with the exception of a few flying bullets, one that took a chunk out of my jacket, it all went down without a hitch. Well no, there were some serious hitches with the payment after the bullets finally stopped but Yuusuke smoothed it all over like the dear he is.”  
  
Aoi blinked and tried to focus before giving up entirely. The way Uruha ranted all his words together had a way of putting the speed of Ruki’s speech to utter shame. Not to mention that Uruha flicked between lies so easily that Aoi was now sure that either there was no deal at all, or it was over in a matter of moments and he was just trying to make the whole thing sound more interesting.  
  
“By the way, how’s Yuusuke? He seemed troubled the other night. You know with that little frown thing he does.” Uruha’s finger made a strange circular motion around the spot between his eyes and Aoi wondered just what the fuck the other was doing. But then again, that was irrelevant considering the question Uruha had asked.  
  
If it was possible for a room to freeze Aoi was sure Uruha’s living room would have turned out to look like the Snow Queens castle. All smooth and shiny ice with shattered glass and razor like edges and all just from the mention of a name.  
  
Wataru looked torn, like his mind was trying to work out whether it should make his body go pale or make his face flush in anger. It left him somewhere between the two, bordering on a shade of sickly green while his fists opened and closed by his sides. Aoi was expecting an eye twitch but it seemed that the slight jerk of Wataru’s lip was all that he was going to get, even as Wataru finally replied. “We need guns.”  
  
“Well, that was a hell of a way to dodge a question.” Again cheery and bright with enough pep to put a cheer squad out of business. Briefly Aoi considered that maybe Uruha was doped up on something; painkillers, meds or something of the more illegal kind. Aoi was sure that it would explain a hell of a lot.  
  
“Hey,” Uruha said with a shrug and a wink at Ruki. Aoi’s eyebrow rose momentarily as the arms runner continued. “At least I don’t have to play the ignorant card and try to convince you that I’ve never seen a gun in my life. Makes it soo much easier to ask what it is that you are looking for.”  
  
“Well,” Wataru said, the faintest hints of a smile on his lips. “That depends on what you’ve got and what you’re charging.”  
  
Aoi found it somewhat odd that Wataru was doing all the talking. Somehow, from the moment their little rag-tag team had formed Aoi had just picked Ruki to be the leader. He was the one with the price on his head, the son of some famous yakuza and Uruha and Ruki were obviously close.  
  
Ruki shuffled his feet as Wataru talked and chuckled slightly but the action seemed forced. It was then that it hit him. Ruki had no clue about Uruha’s little side business and from there it all fell into place. Ruki’s sudden obsession with maintaining his accent was just the icing on the cake. They were friends but fucked if they knew anything about each other.  
  
“I’ve got more than anyone in the city,” Uruha replied and something about how un-cheery his voice was disturbed Aoi. It was hard to tell if Uruha was telling the truth or if that was just another of his great elaborations. “But that depends on how much money you’ve got. I’ll give ya a good price but nothing is free.”  
  
And then it happened and Aoi kicked himself right-royal hard for not seeing it coming sooner.  
  
Wataru dropped Aoi’s bag onto the table without saying a word and Aoi knew within that instant that he could kiss his money goodbye. All that hard work, all that running and panic that had followed and now he was back where he started with absolutely nothing. He guessed that he should have been expecting it, but it still managed to suck the life straight out of him and cause him to hate the situation even more.  
  
Even so, he wasn’t going to stand there and let all his stuff get taken. He still had a number of personal possessions in there, including his disks of hand written programs and constructs. Stepping forward, he placed his hand over the top of the bag just as Uruha reached for it as well.  
  
“There’s thirty grand in there,” he said, his tone even and flat even as Uruha made a point of brushing their hands together. Aoi wondered what the other man’s deal was; he sure as hell came on strong and Aoi couldn’t work out if that was just naturally his way of doing things or if it was from a few years of turning tricks. “There’s some possessions in there that if fenced right can get you another two or three, but then the rest is mine and not to be touched.”  
  
Uruha looked up at him, all big eyes and pouting lips before smiling almost warmly at Aoi. For a moment Aoi thought he was in the clear, that maybe he had jumped to conclusions about Uruha but then the other opened his mouth yet again. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream about touching your… things… without permission, that is.”  
  
Aoi actually rolled his eyes. It probably wasn’t the best thing to do and sure as hell wasn’t the politest but it was an automatic reaction to the idiocy of Uruha’s comment. The hacker found himself wondering if Uruha ever got annoyed at himself. It couldn’t have been easy living when every third sentence out of your mouth was a corny pickup line. Although, then again, as Aoi dutifully reminded himself, every second thought of his was to do with movies or somehow related to fish, so maybe the arms dealer and him had more in common than Aoi would have liked.  
  
Banishing that thought took all of Aoi’s concentration so he hardly noticed when his attempt to pull the bag away was met with resistance. Aoi blinked and looked down at the seated man, seeing Uruha flutter his eyelashes slightly while pressing his lips into a pout. Aoi sighed.  
  
“You may be pretty friends, but this isn’t a charity house.” Uruha was once again hard and business like and it struck Aoi that the man was able to change his personalities as easily as Ruki changed his accent. Apparently Aoi wasn’t the only one in this town struggling with what appeared to be multiple personality disorder. “Let me see the cash.”  
  
Vaguely, Aoi wondered how and why he was left dealing with the arms runner but he chose not to complain. It allowed him to keep what he wanted from his bag without having to justify himself to the others. Pulling the zipper open, Aoi removed the bundle of clothes from the top which also held his computer programs and his Dolce&Gabbana sunglasses. The rest he tipped out in front of Uruha who watched it all with an amused grin.  
  
“Good taste,” the blonde said while picking up one of Aoi’s spare wallets. He turned it over in his hands, admiring the craftsmanship and condition while completely ignoring the cash. It gave Aoi the feeling at the other man just wanted a glimpse into his private life and he just couldn’t shake it no matter how hard he tried.  
  
Apparently Uruha liked what he saw as once he dropped the wallet back into the pile, he offered Aoi a wink before grinning at Wataru and Ruki brightly. “We can do business,” he said proudly and as if he was making a worldwide statement. A nod of his head sent his hair falling into his face and Aoi didn’t miss the sly look the taller man sent him as Uruha flicked his fringe out of his eyes.  
  
Aoi’s first thoughts on Uruha had been completely spot-on; creepy.  
  
“Alright,” Uruha said with yet another grin. Something about the man just seemed too happy for Aoi’s liking, especially as Uruha reached across the table and scooped up the cash and what was left of Aoi’s life. It all got scraped into the top drawer which was then locked with a key which was attached to a thick silver chain around Uruha’s wrist.  
  
“House rules; no touching the merchandise until I say so.” He waited until each of them either agreed or nodded their consent before continuing. “No loading the merchandise. No phone calls. All personal weapons are to be left here; nothing is to come further than this room and if I find anything that you’re holding back on me, it won’t be pretty later.”  
  
Aoi watched as Ruki looked downright disgruntled about the situation but the other man quickly emptied his pockets, not that he had much left on him anyway. He pulled out a few loose bullets, a flick knife about the size of his thumb and oddly a set of keys. Aoi thought it best not to ask.  
  
The biggest surprise came in the form of Wataru. It wasn’t like Aoi was expecting the other to be unarmed, but the things he carried around in his pockets was enough to make anyone proud. Or suspicious.  
  
To begin with, Wataru removed two necklaces. A long one that was well hidden revealed a pair of brass knuckles hanging off the chain while the other appeared to be a seemingly innocent looking guitar pick. Aoi didn’t want to know what was considered deadly about that and he gathered it was probably best if he didn’t.  
  
Wataru then bent down and pulled up the right leg of his pants, revealing a calf holster housing a semi-automatic handgun. The other leg was the home of two spare mags. Both cluttered to the table and Aoi gathered that would be the end of it, but a second gun came from somewhere in the back of the PI’s pants. Opening his jacket, Wataru reached into the left side breast pocket and produced five small, slender knives that Aoi guessed were made for throwing. Following that and much to Aoi’s surprise, Wataru removed his suit jacket, opening up a whole side of the man Aoi didn’t even know existed. Dark straps that were unmistakably holsters looped around both arms but instead of pulling out guns, Wataru produced two long, slender blades that he kept strapped upside-down to his back. Fishing into the front two pockets of his pants, Wataru also produced a pair of silver butterfly knives and carefully placed them next to the rest of his equipment as well as Ruki’s pocket-knife.  
  
Ruki made a pleased little ‘ohh’ sound in the back of his throat as, almost childlike, he took a step forward, his features showing that he was utterly mesmerized. That rapt fascination only increased as Wataru then loosened his belt and slid it free of his pants, revealing loop after loop of separate, spare bullets.  
  
Wataru’s bracelet also apparently had to go and from the ornamental little loop that dangled off the inside Aoi guessed that it was filled with something along the lines of piano or razor wire. He’d seen something like that in a spy movie once and while he thought it was undeniably cool, he honestly hadn’t thought that such a thing existed.  
  
It was then that Wataru’s hands moved to the front of his pants where he started to undo the fly. Aoi’s eyes shot open, his mouth forming silent words as his brain struggled to work out what to actually say. As it was, Uruha beat him to it.  
  
“Ok, where are we going with this?” Wataru shot the arms dealer an unamused look before pulling out the tiniest little gun Aoi had ever seen. It could fit into Wataru’s palm and had a barrel no longer than his pinkie finger but Aoi gathered that it must have had some purpose. “Overcompensating for something?” Uruha finally added, his eyebrows high as he eyed the weapon, “Or… under-compensating if there is such a thing.” Even he seemed generally impressed as he eyed the large stash in the middle of the table.  
  
Wataru merely shrugged while throwing a rather strange looking pack of gum into the mass as well. “Can’t be too careful these days. I like to be prepared.” Uruha laughed at that, a strange sort of scoffing chuckle that make the hairs on the back of Aoi’s neck stand up. Ruki, on the other hand, said nothing and was too busy staring at the large arsenal in wonder. Aoi hazarded a guess that it was all because it was shiny.  
  
For his part, Aoi had never seen so many ways to kill people in his life. He was just getting used to guns and bullets and the occasional grenade thrown into the mix. All this sneaky concealed spy shit was way beyond him and sent a shiver down his spine. How many people did he pass in the streets who were just as well armed? It wasn’t like Wataru had had the chance to arm himself before fleeing his office during the assassins attack. That meant that he was sitting there, conducting his little meetings and chatting to Aoi while hiding hundreds of ways to kill people behind his clothes and smile.  
  
It was downright creepy and Aoi felt even more the fool. He didn’t even have a simple pocket knife.  
  
“And you,” Uruha said as if reading Aoi’s thoughts. His eyes fell on Aoi and Aoi could feel himself blush despite himself.  
  
Aoi shifted under the gaze, feeling both exposed and completely inadequate. “I…” It was stupidly hard to get the words out though he didn’t know why. After watching Ruki and Wataru empty their pockets in such a way that would make James Bond proud and jealous, Aoi felt beyond stupid for having nothing at all. “I… I’m not armed. I have nothing.”  
  
Uruha did an excellent impersonation of a school teacher at that, looking at Aoi like he was a lying child. Yet before he could say anything, Ruki opened his mouth and Aoi just cringed and wished he hadn’t.  
  
“He ain’t got nothin’. Fuckin’ tech hack or some shit. Useless as all hell.”  
  
Aoi felt Uruha’s eyes sweep up and down him and he tried not to shiver, especially when he noticed how the other paused in all the wrong places. “I’m sure I could find a use for him…” Uruha said, his eyes finally locking with Aoi’s, letting the other man breathe somewhat easier. The tall blonde’s eyes were by no means normal but they were far from the intoxicating strangeness that was held in the gazes of Ruki and Yuusuke. If anything it was just a relief to have Uruha looking at him instead of… at him, even if he and Ruki were talking about Aoi in a way that made him feel like a piece of meat up for sale.  
  
“However,” Uruha continued, “I don’t know him.” Uruha was looking at Aoi in such a way that Aoi was sure he was meant to be getting a hint about something. He wasn’t though – getting the hint – and so he just stared right back while most likely looking like a deer trapped between headlights and a cliff. Uruha put him out of his misery pretty quickly, not that it was much of a relief when the other man said, “Shirt. Off. Need to tread on the side of caution; you could be wearing a wire.”  
  
“I… ah…” Aoi couldn’t quite work out how to speak, let alone what the hell he was meant to say to something like that anyway. Outright denying it was always an option but he was sure that would just fall on deaf ears so that left him somewhere between muttering and once again impersonating a fish which was something of a sore spot these days.  
  
On impulse Aoi’s eyes shifted to Ruki, seeking support, help or maybe just some salt for the wound. “Got somethin’ ta hide?” Ruki asked with a smirk and Aoi knew he wasn’t going to get any help from him.  
  
“I’ll vouch for him.” Aoi could have hugged Wataru. Launched at him right then and there, hugged him till neither could breathe and then Aoi would have happily and unashamedly hidden behind the PI for the rest of the night. “Besides, they’re no house rules that I know about.”  
  
Thus defeated Uruha rolled his eyes, sending Wataru a dirty look before outright admitting that the other man had ruined all his fun. “Boring,” he muttered while shoving his hair back behind his ear. “Fine… come this way.” Aoi let out a sigh of relief, waited for Ruki and Wataru to follow the arms dealer before falling in behind.  
  
He got about a grand total of two steps before Aoi walked into Wataru’s back.  
  
“Oh,” Wataru paused mid-step and Aoi watched, utterly fascinated, as he pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket. The older man quickly covered the distance back to the table and added the pen to the somewhat ridiculously large pile of weapons.  
  
“Spring loaded missile-blade instead of an ink cartridge,” he offered with a lopsided smile and a shrug. Aoi sure as hell wasn’t the only one to throw an uncertain glance at the pen, sitting in a parody of innocence on the top of the pile though he was positive that only he saw the spark of longing flash across Ruki’s face.  
  
“That’s hardly police issue,” Uruha exclaimed and Aoi’s eyebrows shot up before he even realised. Police?  
  
“It’s been awhile since I was considered police,” Wataru replied right off the mark. There was no joke to his tone, no sense of irony, just plain, hard truth and Aoi could have sworn that his jaw visibly dropped. He knew that Wataru was a lot of things, but a cop? Somehow he had missed that memo.  
  
Ruki chuckled, deep and so oddly light-hearted. “Sure ya don’t wanna take off ya shoelaces as well?” and even Aoi had to laugh at that as they once again followed Uruha.  
  
Aoi’s heart was beating faster and faster the more doors they passed through. In a way it was a good thing; took his mind off all the stuff he didn’t know by forcing him to deal with the present situation. He’d have plenty of time to consider his new found information about Wataru later, when he wasn’t being locked into tiny room after tiny room by a creepy weapons dealer who acted more like a street walker than a thug.  
  
Besides, Aoi was starting to think that his poor mind could only accept and dwell on one horror at a time else it might just explode.  
  
One room seemed to lead another which, in turn, led into another. As if that wasn’t bad enough Uruha made a point of unlocking and locking each door as they went, brushing up against Aoi that many times that even the often dim-witted hacker knew it wasn’t an accident.  
  
“First time,” Uruha asked and Aoi nigh on jumped out of his skin at just how close the other was to his ear. Uruha must have read the shock on Aoi’s face for he quickly continued, his words accented with his trademark leering smirk. “In a place like this. You don’t look like you know the first thing about guns.”  
  
Aoi lifted an eyebrow in response and tired to play cool. He had the intelligence to keep his mouth shut at least; he had the feeling that as soon as he tried to speak he’d give himself away. Besides, he didn’t particularly want to give Uruha any more ammunition than he already had.  
  
Uruha brushed past him again, all secretive smiles and dancing eyes before stopping at the door up ahead. Pausing, Uruha’s eyes locked with Aoi’s again and Aoi fought the urge to sigh and shift his weight. “Well, my little virgin, wanna see something… swell?” With that he threw the door open, flicked on the light and Aoi stood there open mouthed and amazed. He didn’t even notice the way Ruki almost choked on air, either at the scene before him or Uruha’s lurid comment.  
  
The room looked like something from a movie set and Aoi was getting damn well sick of drawing those conclusions between reality and the world of the silver screen. But this, this was something beyond most set designers wildest dreams.  
  
The walls were covered in racks and nails, mounts and shelves filled with various weapons. Hand guns, rifles, shotguns and some large things Aoi had no clue about sat next to knives and swords and even a few modernized bows. Coils of rope hung to the right of the door and on a lower shelf off to the left were a series of what looked like grenades and tins. Aoi took at guess at the latter of the two, identifying it with the shrapnel bomb that the assassin had thrown into Wataru’s office. In the corner stood a tripod mounted machine gun, large and chunky and with coils of bullets hanging on the wall behind it.  
  
A table stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by the weapons and with a low, bright light hanging in the middle. It was littered with bullets and cards, cigarette packets and a rather impressive collection of bottles, ranging from dry as a bone to half filled. Aoi noted a trend for beer while most of the empty ones obviously used to house wine or champagne.  
  
In a way Aoi was somewhat relieved. In this world of gangsters and assassins, it felt like a little slice of home. Something that Aoi knew and that he could cling to. Something in this crazed fucking world that actually made sense to him.  
  
“All right,” Uruha said, “take a seat.” He ushered the three of them towards two seats and Aoi dutifully stood to the back, making room for Ruki and Wataru. Sure, it may have been Aoi’s money that was buying them this but he knew nothing about guns at all. It would be in all their best interests if he just stood back and allowed the others to handle the situation. Not to mention it also meant that he had a good, safe, happy distance between himself and Uruha and it saved him from having to sit next to Ruki. All in all, it was a win-win situation and no one seemed to mind either.  
  
Ruki took the seat to the left while Wataru went to the right of the desk. Aoi stood in behind them and watched as Uruha moved around the room, apparently swaying to his own tune as he pulled down various weapons. When the pile on the desk started to build up, Uruha took his seat at the other side of the table and pushed the cards and alcohol bottles to the side to give them more room.  
  
“Ok,” he said. His face seemed to loose part of that playful side, his eyes darkening and turning serious. “Let’s get right to it, shall we?  
  
“This here is your typical older model six-shooter pistol,” Uruha said and Aoi didn’t miss that little smudge of a smirk. Aoi noted the way he held the gun; rough and yet tender like it was some demanding lover. However his attention was drawn away as Uruha’s smirk spread further across his face, lightening up his eyes in a whole otherworldly evil fashion. “Just with an addition. I’ve had them all fitted with a state of the art light Titanium firing pin with a heavy-duty pin spring. Completely inertia proof. I’ve had it fitted on all of my Colts and Smith & Wesson’s, including the ever popular SW1911, making them the best in the damn city, if I may say so myself.”  
  
None of the words made any sense to Aoi. Uruha may as well have been speaking a foreign language or something, but Ruki, on the other hand, grinned and extended his little hands across the table in a childish grabbing motion which was the first proof Aoi had seen in regards to just how young Ruki claimed to be. Uruha chuckled and passed the gun over to the little man who started inspecting it thoroughly.  
  
“Real thing’a beauty,” Ruki muttered. Aoi noted how easy Ruki held the gun. He showed no sign of being intimidated by the object and he hardly reacted to the weight of it. He turned it over and over in his hands, grinning like a feral little manic while pulling at something and flicking something else. The gun made a few clicking sounds and Ruki was then squinting down the barrel. Ruki stayed like that for a moment, long enough for Aoi to wonder just what the hell was going on, before he passed the gun across to Wataru. “Check it out.”  
  
Wataru gave it the once over, doing pretty much all that Ruki just had yet with far more precision. He was cold and calculating as he held the gun and the way he flicked things and turned other things made him look almost bored. Aoi shuddered and idly wondered how many people you had to wound or kill to get that fierce detachment while handling an instrument of destruction.  
  
“No,” Wataru finally said. It surprised Aoi completely. The bored tones, the flat out refusal; Aoi had been expecting Ruki to call the shots again anyway. “It is good, and the added features are for the better, but we don’t want any six shooters. Wastes too much time and speed is of the essence. What do you have in the way of semis?”  
  
Uruha nodded, not looking at all offended as he took the gun back. A cloth appeared in his hand, seemingly out of nowhere, and he wiped it down, paying particular attention to the grip and the top; anywhere where either Ruki or Wataru’s fingers had touched.  
  
“I thought that would be the case.” He eventually placed the gun off to the side next to the pile of bottles and playing cards.  
  
“Here we have the American favourite.” Uruha pulled out a gun from the stash and presented it to them as if he were a game show host. Aoi frowned, knowing only one thing about the gun; that it was a semi-automatic and that was an easy play to call. “The Desert Eagle,” and the way the man said that Aoi wouldn’t have been surprised if there was a mysterious drum roll coming from nowhere to accompany his words.  
  
“Latest model with the altered barrel to improve accuracy. But,” Uruha interjected into his own spiel, his free hand rising in the air to command attention, “since you are such good customers I can do a step better. I got a very lucrative deal the other night, thanks to Yuusuke, that is.” He put the gun aside and picked up one that looked identical, at least to Aoi’s untrained eye. Ruki, however, started bouncing like a kid in his seat, earning him a raised eyebrow from Wataru and a smirk from Uruha.  
  
“You know what this is?” Uruha asked with a laugh. Ruki nodded and again made the grabby hand motions in the direction of the gun. This time, however, Uruha shook his head and instead offered it to Wataru first. Aoi was sure that Ruki probably pouted.  
  
“This is the latest model; not even on the market yet. Not only does it have the polygonal rifling which means less deformation and friction to the bullet to heighten accuracy and speed, but it is fitted with the .44 Magnum mag which holds eight rounds. It is the first of its kind. When this baby hits the stores there’s gonna be lines for miles.  
  
“It weighs next to nothing at just under two thousand grams, has a barrel length of six inches and could _easily_ shoot the ear off a fish from three miles away.” The words rolled easily off Uruha's tongue with a sense of conviction that anyone would envy and Aoi had the feeling that the other man was far too accustomed to lying. Not to mention that he had to struggle to keep his mouth closed in regards to certain body parts of fish and quickly busied himself with biting on his lip ring. That always made him feel better and promoted silence. He was rather well acquainted with the fish species, even if he was now sure that they would no doubt try to drown him if he ever came in contact with one of their kind again.  
  
The rest of the transaction went by in a blur. Wataru and Ruki debated endlessly over what they both wanted while Uruha added his two cents and about five dollars worth of lies to the mix. Finally and much to Aoi’s relief they came to the conclusion to agree to disagree, call a break and get back to it later. Oddly enough Uruha seemed fine with that and more than accommodating as he led them back out of the room and locked all the doors behind him.  
  
Once back in the main sitting room, Wataru wandered off and took a seat on a couch, a newspaper in hand and a serious look on his face. Ruki disappeared in the other direction, muttering something about a bathroom which Uruha happily pointed him towards before disappearing into what Aoi gathered was the kitchen.  
  
That left Aoi standing there by himself in the middle of the room with nothing to do and feeling like an idiot. While the idea of just standing there was oddly appealing to him, he didn’t like the notion of remaining there when Ruki returned. Knowing the fiery little man, Ruki would no doubt have something horrific to say about Aoi’s lack of activity and Aoi honestly didn’t want to hear it. Granted that he could only understand every seventh or eighth slurred word that Ruki said, but even that was too much when Ruki was yelling out his anger.  
  
Sighing, Aoi decided to scope out the place. There was a large bookcase off to his left on the opposite wall to where Wataru was sitting and Aoi gathered that that was a good enough target. There was bound to be something of interest to read that would pass the time and, in all honesty, keep him out of trouble.  
  
With his mind thus decided, Aoi turned on his heels, caught his foot on a bit of carpet and stumbled forward. Catching his balance he instantly felt like a fool and found himself looking over his shoulder as he walked, trying to see what the hell he had tripped over. There was nothing on the floor, no tears or rips or little bumps that Aoi could see from this angle and Aoi brushed it off as him being careless and clumsy.  
  
Eyeing the carpet suspiciously, Aoi slowly turned his attention back towards the bookcase and the direction he was walking only to bump right into Uruha’s shoulder.  
  
“We really should stop bumping into each other like this,” Uruha said with a sly smile while holding a glass of something that looked suspiciously like champagne out of harms way. Aoi stepped back quickly, not entirely sure if it was in order to put space between him and Uruha or him and Uruha’s drink. “People will start to talk… not that I mind.”  
  
“Sorry,” Aoi muttered. Already he was getting good at tuning Uruha right out. Sure, he heard the other man’s suggestive words but at the same time it was nothing but background noise. A faint buzzing of something suss that could easily be ignored. He murmured something about not watching where he was going, apologised again and stepped to the left to go around the other man.  
  
A part of Aoi just knew what was going to happen before it did. Either he was starting to develop clairvoyant powers or Uruha was just that damn predictable but they managed to collide again as Uruha perfectly mirrored Aoi’s step.  
  
“Oh look, and there we go again,” and Aoi wanted to throttle Uruha for the idiocy of his statement. It was just ridiculous.  
  
Refraining from saying something snarky to the man, Aoi simply smiled, nodded and let out a small hum of accord. Aoi stepped to the right, once again intending to go around the oddly grinning man but just as he suspected, he was met with the other’s shoulder and Aoi’s feeble grip on patience slipped.  
  
“Can I help you?” Aoi finally asked. It was as polite as he was going to get and all things considered, he was pretty damn pleased with his efforts. Uruha was, for all his smiles and light bubbly attitude, downright scary.  
  
“Oh,” Uruha hummed. The sound reminded Aoi of something cunning, like a fox crossed with a bloody madman, “I hope so.”  
  
“You hope so? Well, that’s somewhat creepy, Uruha,” Aoi said. He tried to make his words seem light-hearted and offered the other a forced grin, but it wasn’t an easy thing to do. Somehow even he knew that it didn’t reach his eyes but then again, with the way that Uruha’s gaze kept straying downwards to the region of Aoi’s pants, he was pretty confident that Uruha wouldn’t notice. “So I’m going to go to my left and you can go to your left and we’ll…” Aoi made an elaborate movement with his hands, indicating which way they would go and the way in which they would successfully bypass each other without any of that bumping or touching.  
  
“Reverse our positions?” If anyone asked, Aoi would swear in a court of law that Uruha’s eyebrow rose suggestively as he leered ever so closer with those words. “I’m all for variety.” Aoi took a step back, scrunched up his nose and peered at the other man out of the corner of his eye.  
  
“Figuratively speaking, yes.” It was a battle that Aoi knew he would never win. Something in the other man’s mind had to be off. Like a switch or something – a circuit breaker – and Aoi was sure that Uruha could make talking about coffee sound dirty. Although, Aoi reminded himself, coffee was dirty movie code talk for sex, so that probably wasn’t all that much of a challenge for Uruha.  
  
“So how about some coffee?” Uruha asked and Aoi had to pretty much pick his jaw up off the floor.  
  
Eyes narrowing, the hacker took a small step backwards and jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m alright. But now I’m going to go this way so… ummm… yeah.” Aoi turned on his heels and tried not to freak out about having his back to the other man. Making his way over to Wataru, Aoi flopped down beside the PI, probably a little too close for comfort, but then again he was a strong believer in the safety in numbers ploy.  
  
“I think you got yourself a fan,” Wataru said with a smirk, never once lifting his eyes off the paper he was reading. Aoi fidgeted in response, crossing his legs and tried to shrink into the seat. Uruha was watching him. Watching!  
  
Aoi opted for silence, paranoid that speaking about Uruha would somehow make the man come over again. Wataru chuckled and turned the page. “Oh, come on, he’s not so bad. Comes on strong though… and well…”  
  
“You’re talking yourself out of your own statement,” Aoi muttered quietly while folding his arms over his chest and sinking further into the seat. Wataru scoffed but didn’t try to say otherwise. He just kept reading that paper which looked to be about a year and a bit old while leaving Aoi to his thoughts.  
  
And he had plenty of them, all zooming around that fast that he couldn’t identify a single one for long enough to actually contemplate it. Somewhere in the time that he sat there Aoi felt Uruha’s eyes leave and he guessed that the taller man had lost interest in staring at him. At least for the moment. Then, out of the jumble of his whizzing thoughts came one that was bugging him.  
  
Sending a furtive look over at Wataru, Aoi shifted slightly, moving away from the other man though he wasn’t sure why. Sense of danger maybe? The feeling that if his question went over the wrong way it could lead to him being throttled to death by the short, somewhat scary man. “You used to be a cop.” It wasn’t so much a question but it was hardly a statement either. More testing the waters and prodding at the unknown.  
  
“Yep.” It was the short, monosyllabic reply that Aoi was expecting and he would have been shocked deaf and dumb had Wataru said anything else.  
  
“What happened?”  
  
Wataru sighed and folded up the newspaper in a way that made Aoi nervous. Maybe Wataru was planning on bludgeoning him to death with last year’s news. His brown eyes locked onto Aoi and Aoi felt that maybe he had pushed it too far. He and Wataru had always gotten on but they had never been buddy-buddy and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that Wataru probably didn’t talk about his old career for a reason. It wasn’t the sort of thing that you went chatting about at the local pub or advertising; not in this town anyway.  
  
“I got kicked out,” Wataru stated tersely. Aoi nibbled on his lip ring and tried as hard as he could not to ask why. Wataru must have seen that, picked up on it for he once again sighed. Shifting, he spread his knees and leaned forward so his elbows rested on his legs and his hands clasped in the space between. Aoi watched silently, keeping his thoughts and questions to himself in quiet acknowledgement. He didn’t want to push the other to continue even though curiosity was pretty much killing him. It was eating him up from the inside, spreading through his limbs and making him jittery as he continued to nibble on his piercing.  
  
“There was this case a few years back. Last one I ever worked.” And there it was, like a flood gate caving under the pressure of rising water, Wataru’s story started to come out. There was no change in his face, no hint of emotion either good or bad. Just the straightforward, almost cold expression that Aoi was all too used to. Fuck, for all anyone knew they could have been talking about the weather judging from Wataru’s face. “Real fucked up bastard; butchered an entire family but not before raping the wife and daughter several times over. Of course it was gang related as is everything these days.  
  
“But the guy was smart, like always. There wasn’t enough proof even though the whole fucking city knew he did it and with no one willing to testify solid evidence was all that we had.”  
  
“What happened?”  
  
Wataru’s back straightened slightly, his eyes narrowing as they focused in on some spot on the floor that only he found interesting. The way the skin around his eyes crinkled was hardly noticeable but Aoi could see it, clear as day from his side on position. “I tampered with the evidence. Fingerprints, hair samples; could have put him away for good but I got dobbed in and run out.” His fingers tapped against each other and Aoi would have had to be blind to miss that talking about this was a painful subject for Wataru even if it didn’t overly show.  
  
“You got kicked out for trying to put a guilty man away.” Aoi wiped at his nose and pulled his lip ring in between his teeth again; nervous habit that he just couldn’t kick. It sucked big time and he felt for the other man, but then that was the sort of adversity that you went against being a cop in this town. Nothing was easy, especially not when you had to play by a rule book that no one else would follow.  
  
“That’s the long and short of it,” Wataru said with a sigh and Aoi instantly knew that it was time to drop the conversation. “I gotta get some air.” And with that Wataru was up and moving through the room, not talking or looking at anyone and Aoi felt like the jackass.  
  
Feeling alone and useless, Aoi’s shoulders slumped as the PI disappeared from sight. While he didn’t know what it was, there was something so very humbling about Wataru’s story, something that just made everything seem so much more real. Cops in movies did that sort of shit all the time, pushed the rule book as far as it could go and then some. Hell, most of the force was dirty as it was, paid off by gangs and dealers to keep their mouths shut and their records clean. Then you had your good cop who was just trying to do the same thing in playing the rules which society forgot about and ostracised for his mistakes.  
  
But that was people for you and even Aoi knew that they were stupid.  
  
Aoi needed to be moving, to be dong something other than sitting there feeling like an idiot. Ruki was picking their supply, Wataru was no doubt chain smoking himself to an early grave and while Aoi would happily do the same, he figured that the PI wanted his space.  
  
Wandering around the room aimlessly, Aoi caught sight of Uruha’s computer. Seeing no reason not to, he wandered over and switched it on, cursing how slow it was as it started to boot up. He missed his computers. As sad as that was, they were his babies and he felt lost and inadequate without them. Once it finally loaded, Aoi’s hand found the mouse and without so much as a thought, he double clicked on one of the desktop icons.  
  
Aoi opened up the word processing program and placed his fingers on the keys. That was as far as he got. Nothing more. He simply sat there, staring at the screen with a million and one thoughts running through his head at breakneck speed. Aoi couldn’t focus on any; they simply burst into blinding life before fading away into obscurity and nothingness, none of them giving him time to contemplate.  
  
Eventually he started to type, to fill the screen up with neat, black letters that ever so slowly became sentences and then paragraphs. Once he got started he found it came easily, that he was able to lose himself in the moment so completely that he was only vaguely aware of Wataru returning to his seat and picking up that old newspaper.  
  
No one came to interrupt him or to ask him what he was doing and for once Aoi was thankful for the space and time. Not even he knew how long he was sitting there but all of a sudden, just like that he was finished and rereading over his own creation.  
  
As his eyes skimmed the last line, Aoi nodded to himself, made a humming noise in the back of his throat and sniffed. “Hey, Wataru,” he called over his shoulder while grabbing the mouse and scrolling up to the top of the screen.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Come and read this.”  
  
“Do I have to?”  
  
“Yes.” Aoi’s fingers tapped against the keys, not actually pressing anything but letting his nails rap a beat. There was a great sigh and the rustling of paper as Wataru got to his feet. The man came to stand at Aoi’s left shoulder, leaning over as he strained to read the text. Aoi merely sat there, his fingers poised on the keys and remained in utter silence. He didn’t even look up, just reread sections of text and tried to work out how to make them better if need be.  
  
“Whacha doin’?” It was Ruki and Aoi instantly felt the other’s presence at the right side of his seat. A little hand gripped the backrest as Ruki lent forward, his eyes locking onto the screen as well and Aoi instantly felt insecure. Aoi shot him a quick, secretive glance, noting the way that the other’s lips pursed into a pouty circle as his eyes flicked over the words though there was no telling if that was a good expression or a bad one.  
  
“Well fuck.” It was Wataru who broke the silence  
  
“You can actually do this?” Ruki asked from the right. His voice echoed in Aoi’s ear and it was only then that the hacker noticed that the shorter man had moved even closer. His eyes were squinted as he studied the words, reading over them for what was no doubt a second time.  
  
“All I need to do is press a few buttons,” Aoi assured and for once he _knew_ that his voice didn’t falter.  
  
“For real?”  
  
Aoi chuckled silently, the action looking more like a cough than a laugh. “Well, it’s not that simple.” His words were calculated and cautious and his mind was already running through the processes he’d need to implement. “But I’ve been in the police database before and I’m pretty sure I can get back in. I have all my programs in my bag.”  
  
Looking over his shoulder at Wataru, Aoi drew the other’s eyes to his and tried to read the older man. Wataru seemed hesitant but somewhat hopeful and Aoi took that as a good sign. “All I need to do is get in there. I can clone your original file, add this information and then set up the mirrored document under tighter security.”  
  
“Just like that?”  
  
“Just like that and your little mishap never happened.”  
  
“Do it.” Again it was Ruki that spoke and Aoi felt Wataru stiffen beside him. “Do it, Aoi.” A little hand prodded Aoi in the back of the shoulder before Ruki’s attention noticeably switched to Wataru. “It is good,” Ruki reasoned, “and it gives you – and hell, even us – a chance. Besides,” he added as an after note, “may as well put the guy to work since he is otherwise useless.”  
  
Aoi opted to take that as a compliment and set to work. It was no sweat getting back into the database and even easier to clone Wataru’s original file. With the duplicated dossier in front of him it was just a matter of copying and pasting his fabricated information. The words ‘undercover’ and ‘yakuza assignment’ popped up frequently enough that their meaning couldn’t be mistaken and yet he was careful not to over do it.  
  
Ruki and Wataru seemed intent on watching, well, Ruki did anyway. Wataru pulled a chair up near the desk and merely sat there, an impassive look on his face as he apparently tried to make friends with the wall. Ruki however paced. Well, limped back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes constantly darting to the screen. It made Aoi overly paranoid, made his hands shake ever so slightly each time he reached for the mouse and his fingers falter in their typing. But for the most part it was bearable and over thankfully quick. It really wasn’t rocket science hacking into a database you had already cracked.  
  
“Pick a password,” Aoi said, his eyes flicking over to Wataru. The other man blinked, looking downright startled at being spoken to so Aoi repeated the question.  
  
“Why?” Even Ruki seemed interested and Aoi prided himself on being able to foresee something that neither of them did. Apparently watching a lot of movies did have its benefits.  
  
“When you get in there, you’ll need to be able to access your file; prove that you are you. All undercover cops have their own string of access codes to prevent identity tampering. So pick a password.”  
  
Ruki’s head was moving, a slow, languid sort of nod that suggested that he had finally worked out what Aoi was talking about. Wataru had apparently also clued himself onto the specifics of the situation but he was still looking somewhere between shell shocked and scared. It was an overly strange expression to be on Wataru’s face and for the briefest of moments Aoi contemplated dropping the whole thing. Maybe there was a reason that the PI had never tried to return to the force.  
  
Just as Aoi was going to suggest just that, Wataru blinked, his gaze clearing somewhat and his head tilted to the side in his typical thinking pose. “Cuddle pie,” Wataru finally said, his words coaxing a giggle out of Ruki. Aoi frowned slightly but decided not to press the issue; Ruki and Wataru were weird enough and it was probably good that Aoi didn’t understand whatever code talk they had going on.  
  
Aoi just nodded and turned his attention back to the computer. He continued typing, setting up the password and double checking the fraudulent date and time stamps until finally, with a loud, hard press of the enter key, he was done.  
  
“You’re officially a cop again,” Aoi said with a smirk. “You’re little evidence tampering was nothing more than a way for you to be disgraced and released into the underground where you were to embark on a strictly confidential undercover assignment.  
  
“What’s more,” Aoi continued. He knew he was looking rather pleased with himself but he couldn’t help it. It was impossible to wipe the grin from his face. “I did a little digging and found the most interesting thing. Will fit perfectly with this cover. The Superintendent who led the charges against you was exposed for being corrupt not long after. He is locked away and refused to give any comments once his trial was over; other than vowing revenge on the cop that exposed him. It makes it all so perfect.  
  
“What I did was make it look like your file had been tampered with. I put in your password, changed all the data timestamps to just before you were ‘disgraced’ and then changed the password to something else with timestamps matching to when the Superintendent was exposed.”  
  
Aoi felt like he was loosing them. Both Wataru and Ruki were nothing but big, blinking eyes and blank expressions and there was that part of Aoi that wanted to gloat. In a way it was almost payback for everything that they knew and he didn’t, the deal with Uruha being the latest thing to spring to mind.  
  
“Basically it will make it look like he tried to cover up the fact that you were out there which will give your story more credibility. You’ll be able to open it with your own password though as I set it up as an override.”  
  
Turning fully in his chair, Aoi glanced over his shoulder at Wataru and found himself doing a double take. The man was somewhere between ashen and just plain white and his bottom lip was held tightly between his teeth. Aoi frowned slightly but chose to keep his silence. With his track record asking for more information probably wasn’t the best of ideas. Besides, Aoi was thinking that after this – if he survived without a bullet to the head – then it was high time he turned over a new leaf. Kicked the curious streak in him that always got him wedged between deep shit and brick.  
  
“So I… erm,” Aoi stuttered slightly as Wataru’s distant eyes locked onto his. It was freaky. The change in the other man was not something Aoi was expecting. Happy, sure, maybe even slightly bouncy at the good news, but not distant and sad.  
  
“Anyway, I fit that into the cover story. Only he knew of your assignment, blah blah blah. You’ll be met with questions about your involvement with him, but I’m sure you can handle them and prove yourself separate. Say something like he sent you off on the stupid assignment to be killed hence why you dropped it and stayed low for so long.”  
  
And then there was silence. Mind numbing, insanity creating silence and Aoi was sure his mind was about to implode under the pressure of it all. Again he started to think that maybe he had overstepped his boundaries somewhere, or that Wataru really hadn’t wanted all this to go ahead but had been too nice to say anything. It was literately a matter of minutes, Aoi just sitting there while constantly being aware of Ruki’s weight slumped on the back of his chair and Wataru’s presence to the other side.  
  
After the long pause it was Wataru who finally spoke.  
  
“Well fuck me,” he said.  
  
“…Sideways ‘til I cry,” Ruki added, looking every bit as stunned at the PI. Ruki’s eyes flicked to Aoi’s for a moment and Aoi tried not to look too pleased with himself. “He actually has a purpose. Who wodda thought.”  
  
Aoi rolled his eyes. “I’ll take that as your way of saying ‘thank you’ since you are such a genius with words.” The hacker watched as Ruki’s mouth fell open, an insulted expression spreading across his childish face. Aoi just shrugged and offered the younger man a cheeky wink. “I aim to please.”  
  
“Your aim must be off because I didn’t feel a thing…!” a voice called from the direction of the kitchen and Aoi, for all his smugness, just shrank further into his chair.  
  


*****

**Chapter Sixteen preview:**

  
  
Ruki looked at the gun for a moment, contemplating where to start and what were the most important things to tell. He’d never had to give a crash course on how to shoot – on how to kill someone – before and it felt somewhat wrong.  
  
It felt like he was about to create a monster. Some dark creature to eat up the insides of an innocent man just like his father had done to him. His first kill had been something to remember, a tale worth telling had he had the heart. Or maybe that was it; he did have the heart and yet to be able to talk about that freely and with passion required you not to.


	18. Chapter Sixteen - A crash course on how to take a life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm going away for Christmas and New Year, I'm going to mass update today. So you get lots of chapters now, but there won't be updates for the next few weeks. 
> 
> See ya all in the new year!

**Chapter Sixteen**

A crash course on how to take a life

*****

  
  
Uruha was lurking and it bloody well annoyed the fuck out of Ruki.  
  
They were friends, the truest that Ruki had, but still, sometimes there were moments when Ruki would have happily pressed a gun to Uruha’s head and pulled the trigger. This was one of those moments.  
  
He and Wataru had finally settled on a selection of weapons that was both useful and matched in with their price range. True to his word, Uruha had given them an excellent deal, charging them only for the weapons and spare clips while throwing in boxes of bullets for free. Not that they were a walking arsenal now or anything, far from it, but they at least had enough to work with and to keep them out of trouble. Still Ruki could see the final showdown reverting to dirtier tactics than just a gunfight.  
  
With the guns decided and Aoi’s handy bag of money safely in Uruha’s desk, Ruki had turned his attention to making sure that everything was in working order. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Uruha, it was just that he… well, he didn’t trust Uruha though he would never admit that to the other man. Life on the run was enough to make anyone paranoid.  
  
It was approaching late afternoon which, to Ruki, was a horrific reminder that he had not slept in over thirty hours. He promised himself that when this was all over he would make up for it. A full week in bed. Nothing but sleep and food and pointless TV.  
  
Provided he wasn’t asleep for a wholly different reason; a reason he wouldn’t wake up from.  
  
But that put quite a downer on the whole situation and Ruki knew he didn’t need that at the moment. What he needed was to stay awake and focused and at the moment the best way of ensuring he did just that was by picturing the many ways he could make Uruha shut up and go away.  
  
It didn’t take a degree in human behaviour to notice that Uruha had his sights set on a certain darkhaired pain in Ruki’s ass, which, while fine with Ruki, was even more of an annoyance as Uruha apparently felt the need to talk about it. Talking about it was really not on the top of Ruki’s to do list. In fact, he didn’t even want to think about the other man let alone consider him with his friend.  
  
“Nice trick,” Uruha commented as he lent against the table. He folded his arms over his chest and pressed the flat of one foot to the leg of the desk while his hip jutted out and his back curved. Really, as far as Ruki could see, it looked like a wholly uncomfortable way to stand but then who was he to judge.  
  
Ruki busied himself with loading a handful of bullets into an empty magazine. He wasn’t being careful; his fingerprints would be all over it but then that hardly bothered him at the moment. He was too distracted and besides, who the fuck cared who offed a couple of hired guns. He was doing a favour to the city even though he wouldn’t be here to accept a proper thank you. As for what Uruha said, Ruki decided that it was in his best interest to play dumb. “Eh.”  
  
The exhale of breath was enough to tell Ruki that Uruha was not amused. That was the other thing about the tall bartender turned arms runner, not only did he always have to have the last word, not only did he have a thing for stretching the truth, but he was also an attention addict. You had to pay him attention twenty-five/eight if you were in his presence and he hated to be ignored.  
  
“Come on Ru,” Uruha complained, the hint of whine to his tone enough to make Ruki’s teeth grit in annoyance. He kept a chant going in his head, reaffirming that he would not shoot his best friend no matter how tempting it all seemed and no matter how easy it would be to do. Violence wasn’t always the only solution; it was normally the best one, but Ruki had been told and assured that there were others that were apparently just as effective. Fucked if he knew what they were though.  
  
Again all Ruki said in response was a grunt between the soft clicks of loading bullets.  
  
“Where did you find him?” Uruha continued and Ruki was one step away from slamming his own head against the desk. The only thing stopping him was the obsessive need to slam Uruha’s head into the desk first.  
  
“’Round,” Ruki said by way of explanation. With one magazine finished, Ruki picked up another one and grabbed the matching box of bullets. “Where ya goin’ wit this, Uru?”  
  
A sigh. That was it and Ruki could have sworn that it was a dreamy one at that. Just fucking perfect. He didn’t want to hear this. At all and it was not out of some insane form of jealousy either. It was just plain wrong and all in all Ruki had expected Uruha to have better taste.  
  
“All I’m sayin’ is that he’s pretty damn easy on the eyes.” Uruha reclined up against the table like some model posing for a dirty magazine and Ruki just knew where Uruha’s eyes were locked.  
  
“He is?” Ruki didn’t care. “Hadn’t noticed.”  
  
“Bullshit.” Uruha laughed and Ruki noted the way his friend’s head tuned to him quickly before flicking back to face where Aoi was sitting. “Ya mean to tell me you’ve been tramping around the city with that bit of candy and you can still see straight? I think you’re losing it, Ru.”  
  
That was it. Either Uruha was getting a bullet to the head or Ruki was going to snap and considering that, although stupid sometimes, Ruki did value Uruha’s friendship, snapping seemed like the best bet.  
  
“Look, Uruha,” Ruki said. Ruki was not known for his patience, in fact, he was known for not really having any to begin with. He only had a very fine, very short line of it that was already well and truly stretched beyond its means. “Ya want ‘im, go get ‘im. No. Please, take ‘im. Get rid of ‘im n shut the hell up ‘cause I’m tryin’ t’concentrate.”  
  
“Touchy!” Ruki could hear the way that Uruha rolled his eyes in the tones of his voice. Sometimes the other man was a complete mystery while others, well, you had to be a moron not to be able to see right through him. “I’d say you were jealous.”  
  
“No,” Ruki muttered. “Actually hate the fucker.”  
  
“Riiight.” Uruha dragged the word out, adding that singsong tone to it that he was so fond of. All the while he very slowly uncoiled his body, languid and dangerous like a snake and Ruki pictured him as just that. Some starved python with its eye on a field mouse and for the very first time, Ruki actually felt a tinge of pity for Aoi. The poor fool had no clue what was coming at him.  
  
Uruha wasn’t standing upright for long. Instead he turned, his front facing the desk as he doubled over and lent down. His face was close to Ruki’s, his hands bracing against the desk and Ruki was sure that Uruha had chosen that pose for a reason. Maybe Aoi was just as into it as Uruha seemed to be, in which case at least it would be easier to get rid of the moron. For the time being though, Uruha was looking at him all side on and suspicious like and Ruki just outright refused to look up. There was no point. No matter what Ruki was thinking, no matter what his face showed, Uruha would stick to his theory and maintain that Ruki was jealous.  
  
“Well, if I have your approval,” Uruha mused and Ruki saw the other’s hand move and felt the table shift under the changing weight. Uruha was resting on one arm now, his other raised so that his fingertips could brush at his lips in what Ruki _knew_ to be a seductive pose. “Maybe I will then.”  
  
It was a challenge. Uruha was testing him, dangling the bait to see if Ruki would jump and nibble. Ruki hated it when Uruha did that; the other man made it impossible for Ruki to just let it slide and maybe Ruki was just as stubborn as Uruha, but it was always guaranteed to end the same way.  
  
Ruki exhaled a deep breath, calming himself as he placed the half filled magazine on the table. He blinked once, clearing his eyes before turning his head up to meet Uruha’s gaze. They were so close, mere inches apart and Ruki could feel the other’s breath hot against his skin. Ignoring it, Ruki merely smiled and fluttered his eyelashes with long practiced skill. “Please, be m’ guest.” He made even more of a show of it by sweeping his arm out in Aoi’s direction, motioning Uruha onwards.  
  
It was no skin off his nose if they decided to fuck. Just as long as Uruha didn’t have the shit-for-brains hacker hanging around at every possible moment. Then again it wasn’t like Ruki was looking to stay in the city much longer than twenty-four hours anyway. Aoi and Uruha could do whatever the fuck they wanted and Ruki wouldn’t be around to care. If anything he’d be sipping cocktails in Hawaii or trekking through old ruins somewhere in France.  
  
All that stood in his way were a pair of lunatic assassins and a quick stop off at Wataru’s to get his money. After that he would be home free and wouldn’t have to give a shit about any of this again and that felt damn good.  
  
On impulse Ruki’s eyes lifted, searching around the room as he continued his inspection of the guns. Wataru was lurking off to the side, his face set in a partial scowl as he continued to study his newspaper. Honestly, Ruki had never seen anyone so hung up on the crummy lies of the city’s news before. Then again, Ruki reminded himself, Wataru was both a little strange and worried about his partner. It stood to reason that perhaps he was looking for any sign of where Yuusuke might have gone, or more depressingly for any unidentified bodies that had been found.  
  
The gloomy sight didn’t appeal to Ruki in the slightest so instead he found his attention drawn to Uruha’s back. The man was standing with his hip jutting out, resting against the side of his computer desk and all but drooling all over a seated Aoi. From what little Ruki could see of the hacker, it was easy to note his discomfort. He was constantly shifting, moving one leg to cross over the other only to mirror the action moments later. Ruki could see his hands, hanging lifeless over the arms of the chairs while his fingers were locked around the base of the seat. Aoi’s knuckles were just as white as Ruki imagined his face to be.  
  
It was a sad sight, quite pathetic really and not without a touch of humour. Yet it made Ruki’s eye twitch, the side of his mouth tremble and a lump form in the back of his throat.  
  
Sure, Ruki was more than willing to wish worlds of pain on the other man, hell, he would gift wrap him in a bright blue bow and hand him over to the assassins just to cure his boredom. But something about meeting his fate in the form of Uruha just seemed plain cruel. Especially with the way that Aoi seemed to shrink under the attention, his shoulders slumping and his eyes diminishing.  
  
It was a strange sight to see. If anything Ruki would have thought that the other man would lap up the attention for all it was worth. Aoi may have been hot but being the nerd and idiot that he was didn’t allow ample opportunity for social interaction. Especially not with someone like Uruha who, to most men more so than women, was a walking sex god.  
  
Not that Ruki thought Aoi was hot at all; it was just a figure of speech to help put the situation into perspective.  
  
Besides, even if Ruki had thought Aoi was eye candy as Uruha liked to put it, he really couldn’t blame himself for it; at least that’s was what he told himself. When things were looking like life or death then even the intellectually challenged started to appear like prime candidates for all kinds of stress relieving games. It was the way of life. All that mattered was that Ruki was stronger than that and wouldn’t – under no circumstances – submit to that annoying little need.  
  
Even so seeing Aoi trapped and timid and silently begging for salvation wasn’t really as fun as Ruki would have liked. Ruki cursed and swore to himself, his hand scratching at the back of his hair as he made his decision.  
  
“Aoi,” he called, “come ‘ere.” For his part, Aoi practically jumped ten feet out of his chair, proceeded to look shocked and then piss bolted the hell away from Uruha. Somehow Ruki was able to see the funny side in all that; maybe he was tired or just over it all, but something about the look on Aoi’s face with Uruha’s annoyed pout reflected in the background made it all worth it.  
  
Maybe Ruki was being stupid or maybe he was just imagining it, but he was sure that he saw a flicker of relief illuminate in Aoi’s eyes. A tiny, glowing little spark of hope and gratitude and Ruki honestly didn’t know if he liked its existence. It somehow said worlds about Ruki that Ruki was not at all prepared to hear.  
  
“I’d thank you but you’d probably bite my head off,” Aoi said as he came to stand in front of Ruki. His arms crossed over his chest, his body oddly relaxed and Ruki wondered if something was wrong. When the hell had Aoi decided that his life wasn’t in danger around him anymore? Was Ruki slipping?  
  
“Why’re ya talkin’?” Ruki asked with a scowl. Just the sound of the other’s voice made Ruki cringe and maybe Aoi didn’t realise it but anything he said was as good as him scoping shovel loads of dirt out of his own grave. Ruki might not have been able to put his finger on why he has just helped Aoi but it sure as hell wasn’t out of compassion or fondness.  
  
Feeling strangely exposed as Aoi stared down at him, Ruki turned his attention to the table, searching out something that he could use as the basis for his actions. Like a shiny beacon of hope and good lies, Ruki focused in on one of the guns. Grabbing it, he set his face to display no emotions before once again looking up at Aoi.  
  
“Do you know how to use one of these?” Ruki asked. He held the gun out to Aoi but the taller man made no move to take it. Ruki rolled his eyes, cursing his luck and the idiocy of the man in front of him. Honestly, what had Ruki done to merit having to baby-sit such a fool? “Do you even know what this is?” It was a testy reply and Ruki failed miserably at keeping the contempt out of his voice.  
  
Aoi shot him a dirty look that Ruki knew he deserved, at least on some level. There again he couldn’t be blamed for his question, especially once you took Aoi’s previous displays of ‘advanced intellect’ into consideration. “Of course I do.”  
  
“So I’ll repeat ma’self; do ya know ‘ow ta use it?”  
  
“I know how to shoot.”  
  
“Point Blank at the arcade don’t count, Sparky.” The look on Aoi’s face told Ruki that he was right on the money. Ruki sighed and scratched behind his ear. This was going to take some work. “Sit.”  
  
Aoi was giving him that cynical look that Ruki knew all too well by now. The one that suggested to Ruki that Aoi didn’t trust him in the slightest, especially not when around weapons and Ruki found himself letting out a sigh.  
  
“I ain’t gonna shoot ya,” Ruki mumbled with a roll of his eyes. Honestly, sometimes he felt like he had to sit there and hold the fuckers hand, tell him everything was all right and give Aoi a cookie just for good measure. “Besides, it’s this or go back and talk to Uruha.”  
  
Ruki couldn’t hide his smile as Aoi’s back straightened and he instantly took a seat at the opposite end of the table. Seemed that those words were the magic charm, though they did nothing to make the hacker ease up a bit. He was ridged, his hands tucked under the desk and his eyes huge as saucers as he looked at the firearms arranged across the wooden surface. Scared and timid and as skittish as squirrel on a freeway.  
  
“Well,” Ruki started. The word came out slow and elongated, the single syllable drawing out in his practiced slur. He was trying to work out how to proceed; now that he had found a reason for his voluntary saving of the hacker he needed to make it sound justified else the idiot started getting the wrong idea. “At least ya hand-eye coordination should be good cause I ain’t got the time to teach ya that.”  
  
Ruki looked at the gun for a moment, contemplating where to start and what were the most important things to tell. He’d never had to give a crash course on how to shoot – on how to kill someone – before and it felt somewhat wrong.  
  
It felt like he was about to create a monster. Some dark creature to eat up the insides of an innocent man just like his father had done to him. His first kill had been something to remember, a tale worth telling had he had the heart. Or maybe that was it; he did have the heart and yet to be able to talk about that freely and with passion required you not to.  
  
Either way sitting there looking at Aoi’s huge, dark eyes across the table while contemplating how best to walk him through all this didn’t make him feel like a saint. Far from it. A devil grinning and laughing at the chance to alter fate and change the world.  
  
But it had to be done. It was a lesson hard learned and one that was probably too long in coming for the other man. That was Ruki’s story and he was going to stick to it, tell it to himself until he was able to make himself numb to the feeling of it all.  
  
“Ok, first of all,” Ruki placed the gun down onto the table and slid it over towards Aoi. “Pick it up and let me see you hold it.” The hacker looked like he’d been hit in the face with a killer trout. He got that sort of glazed over, stunned look that he either practiced in the mirror or that just came naturally due to his inner stupidity. And Ruki wanted to teach this idiot how to use a firearm. Again, Ruki chastised himself. It just seemed so wrong. “It ain’t gonna bite ya, ya know.”  
  
Slowly, Aoi’s pale hand extended out and took a grip of the gun. He held it weakly, timidly and like the thing was about to grow snapping jaws and bite his head off.  
  
“Don’t be scared of it,” Ruki said bluntly, “it’s the barrel ya gotta fear, not the grip.” Odd enough but Aoi actually nodded to that and Ruki was able to see something else in the man’s eyes. Something like what he had seen when Wataru had challenged him back in the hotel. A spark of rebellion; the faint traces of danger and an intelligence that he obviously kept well hidden.  
  
It was fascinating to watch how the subtle undertones swept across the other’s face, lifting and tightening the muscles and setting his jaw into a hard line. It was like an incoming tide washing everything else away. Swirls in the sand and castles decorated with shells just melted away under the force of the water just as Aoi’s panicked intimidation vanished behind an impassive mask.  
  
And it was some mask. Even Ruki would admit that. Looking at the man as he sat behind a desk of guns with a semi in his hand and that look in his eyes was like looking at someone else entirely. Ruki would have excused anyone for thinking that this guy was a pro; an experienced, hardened killer.  
  
Well, he would have almost forgiven the casual onlooker as Aoi’s hold on the gun was all wrong and his fingers were hardly wrapped around the grip tight enough to keep it once it fired. And there was still that nervous edge to the darkhaired man even though Ruki had no idea why he could see it; it wasn’t like he actually knew him or anything.  
  
Ruki let out a deep sigh, rubbed at his eyebrow and tried to banish the thoughts from his mind. Pushing himself up from his seat, he nibbled on his lip as he moved around behind Aoi. The idea of whacking the man upside the head was overly tempting but Ruki managed to fight it and instead leaned down and over the other’s shoulders. He let his hands grab Aoi’s larger ones and pushed, extending the hacker’s arms out further from his body.  
  
“None of this holdin’ it up close, ya get me,” it was a struggle to keep his voice calm and even as he battled the want to jump away. This was officially far too close to the other man for comfort and all he could think about was how easy it would be to wrap his arms around the other’s neck and strangle. “Extend your arms and never lean into it, even when aiming. The discharge from firing will be hot and in case ya didn’t know, most people will get their hands burnt if they don’t hold it the right way. Now imagine what that could do to ya face.” He felt Aoi’s head nod against his cheek so at least the hacker was able to keep up with what he was saying.  
  
Ruki knew that Aoi found it hard to understand his accent so he toned it down as much as he dared. Uruha may have been his friend but there was a difference between friends and people you could actually trust and Ruki wasn’t too sure where Uruha fit into it all. Probably in some hazy greyness that existed between the two extremes. Either way now wasn’t the best of times to push and see just which way Uruha would go. That could be saved for later.  
  
“Now, about this grip,” Ruki continued, eyeing Aoi’s hands as if they were somehow overly offensive appendages. “Cops went ‘n’ got one thing right and that’s how ta hold it, so copy ‘em. Move this hand here,” Ruki pulled Aoi’s left hand away from the gun for a moment while repositioning Aoi’s right. His original grip was too high and had he fired he would have found the webbing between his thumb and index finger getting eaten by the slide. Once satisfied that Aoi’s hand was in the correct position and his fingers were curled, Ruki replaced Aoi’s left. He settled it in more under the magazine, cupping and cradling both the gun and his right hand.  
  
“That’s better,” Ruki said. He gave the other’s fingers a squeeze, encouraging him to hold onto the weapon tighter. “Feel how ya have more grip; more control? That’s hella important, ‘specailly once ya come to fire.” Ruki remained where he was, leaning over the other from behind and with his hands on the gun as well. He moved his right hand up and over Aoi’s to place it near the slide, “This is the slide for the chamber. When fired it will move back and forth. Never, ever put your hand where mine is and never, ever cover the slide’s top. It’ll rip ya flesh open good and true, both fuckin’ ya hand and the gun.”  
  
Again Aoi nodded his head and Ruki felt the other’s hair brush his cheek. “Okay,” was whispered out so softly that Ruki almost didn’t hear it. It was such a quiet word, so short and concise and reserved even for the other man that Ruki almost wished he hadn’t. Again he was reminded just what it was that he was doing here and it still didn’t seem right.  
  
Struggling against his own conscious, Ruki forcefully blinked a number of times, moistening his dry eyes as he forced himself to continue his little prep talk on how to kill someone.  
  
“I don’t wanna see any cowboy shootin’ either. None of this cross over shit, or one handed. If ya only got one gun, then it takes both hands. Only when ya got two, and let’s hope ya don’t need to, do I ever wanna see one hand. Understand?” Aoi’s dark hair tickling Ruki’s cheek again told him that Aoi both heard him and understood even if he didn’t say anything on the subject.  
  
God only knew what Aoi had picked up about shooting from various movies or games. Ruki didn’t feel the need to point out that such forms of entertainment covered the truth with pretty lies of ease and romanticism. There was nothing idealistic about shooting a gun, nothing fun and thrilling about aiming down the barrel and squeezing that trigger with the intent of taking a life. Not if you had a soul and a heart and a conscience to go with it.  
  
Ruki found it strange that such thoughts were entering his head as he stood there. When push came to shove Ruki was more than willing to do whatever it took to make sure he survived, even if it meant killing someone. Hell, he’d hardly even given his little escapade with the car at the train station a second thought. He could have easily killed someone with that stunt but the need to get away and keep his own life had prevailed over that.  
  
But training someone to kill? That was a different story altogether. It had a way of reminding him that this was life, that there were no second chances in anything. You aim at someone and pull the trigger and that was it. No game, no instant replay or ability to take it back. Just death. Mind numbing, heart freezing death and you had to be ready to deal with that before you even looked at a gun.  
  
Somehow, with Aoi’s strong hands under his own, gripping the cold steel of the gun, gradually heating it and Ruki’s hands with his warmth, Ruki realised something important.  
  
Aoi wasn’t ready. Not in the slightest and fuck, he probably never would be. Stupid, yes, and he was sure as hell destructive in his prying, computer driven world, but he wasn’t a killer.  
  
It was hard to tell what was worse. The fact that Ruki found himself there, leaning over the other man while trying to teach him how to shoot or that such a lesson was needed. Was Ruki the bad guy for corrupting Aoi’s mind or was it the assassins for chasing him down like bloodhounds and offering no other choice.  
  
But that didn’t explain that darkness in the other man, that glimmer of something untamed and wild that make Ruki feel like he was gazing into a mirror. Where did all that fit if Aoi wasn’t ready?  
  
Ruki moved his hands, running them along Aoi’s wrists before taking a secure hold of the other’s forearms. Thoughts of right and wrong would have to wait; the debate between good and evil and who was corrupting who. At the moment all that mattered was seeing the night through and if that meant that Ruki had to play the devil and corrupt an innocent then so be it. At least it might give the fool a fighting chance.  
  
Without any warning Ruki gave both limbs a sharp, vicious tug backwards, jarring Aoi’s body and making his back press into the seat. “When this thing fires you’re gonna get a back-kick and it ain’t gonna be pretty for a first-timer,” he said quickly and before Aoi’s could protest. Ruki again jerked on Aoi’s arms, slamming the taller man back yet again. “You’ll get used to it but it will still offer a world of hurt and ya always run the risk of your arm getting numb. Nothing we can do ‘bout that other than make sure ya aware and ready for it. Re-aim if ya got time, if not go for cover and revaluate ya target.”  
  
Aoi looked like he was about to say something, his face lighting up in that way that Ruki associated with a puppy returning the stick its master had just thrown, but all too quickly the darkhaired man’s face changed. Serious and calm again, Ruki could see him visibly push whatever thoughts had occurred to him to the side and refocus his attention. Stupid as it sounded Ruki almost wanted to pat the guy on the head and tell him ‘good boy.’ Maybe Aoi wasn’t so much of a lost cause after all as it really didn’t take much to know that he had the attention span of a gold fish on pain medication.  
  
“Now that we got that done,” Ruki continued, this time moving away from Aoi. He was slightly surprised at the slow movements of his own body, the way his hands seemed to linger on Aoi’s arms for a moment too long and how his back wanted to resist his instruction to straighten. It was strange but considering his fight with the assassin and the jarring of the car crash, it was probably normal to act a little slower than usual. At least that was what Ruki told himself. That and that it may have just been his imagination but Ruki was sure that Aoi let out a sigh. Probably wasn’t too comfortable having someone who hated you leaning so close to your throat.  
  
Reaching out, Ruki took the gun off him before perching himself on the table just to Aoi’s left. His feet hardly touched the floor but that hardly bothered him; at least it took the pressure off his knee. “You know the slide,” Ruki offered, pointing to the top part of the weapon, “And this is obviously the grip and the barrel; hold it here, bullet comes out there. Pretty simple. This here is your safety,” he indicated a switch off to the left of the gun. It was small and set flush against the top of the grip. “This needs ta be off else ya ain’t gonna be shootin’ nothin’. It ain’t easy to push so get used to turning it on and off.” Ruki demonstrated, flicking it with his thumb until the sound became audible.  
  
“Now over ‘ere,” Ruki continued, indicating to a bent fitting at the top of the slide, “is the hammer. This whacks the bullets and sets them off. Ya need to pull this back once the safety is off then that’s it. With a semi you never need to pull it back more than once unless it jams, but with a pistol you need to do it before every shot.”  
  
Like some clean sponge, Aoi soaked in all the information, nodding and humming at all the right times. Ruki almost felt like he was getting through to him. “So pick one,” Ruki said, motioning to the guns with a wave of his hand.  
  
That was when Aoi faltered, proving that it was one thing to listen and take note and yet something completely different to actually act and do. His eyes expanded slightly as his face went that strange shade of porcelain white and his lip ring disappeared into his mouth. Aoi’s hand reached out, hovering over the table just far enough away that he never had to touch any of the firearms. Ruki wondered if he was searching for some holy feeling to one of them or something. A presence or force guiding his hand to the right weapon for him like a psychic seeking answers with a crystal.  
  
“What about this one?” and Ruki inwardly sighed as Aoi dragged a gun closer. He could see why the man chose it, read it in Aoi’s mannerisms and nervous treatment of the weapon. It was the smallest, the oldest and the most basic looking. Tarnished black metal and nothing shiny or fancy to it and was fundamentally all the gun was. Simplicity fashioned into form and fitted with a dodgy trigger.  
  
“That’s a .22 calibre semi-auto and ya ain’t getting that one.” Ruki reached down and pushed the gun away from Aoi, ignoring the visible tension between Aoi’s eyebrows. “The majority of ‘em ain’t drop safe; got some defect in the safety that makes it recoil when jarred with any sorta pressure.”  
  
“So you drop it, it shoots?”  
  
Ruki found it mildly annoying how Aoi could sum the situation up in so few words. “Yeah.” Aoi shot him an inquisitive look and Ruki merely shrugged. “They’re cheap cause of it and Uruha threw it in as a bit of a bonus. I’ll use it to lead ‘em out.”  
  
Glancing back at the table, Ruki nibbled at his lip once again as Aoi kept peering at the guns. Again, there was something so wrong about the scene before him. watching Aoi pick what weapon he was going to use to possibly kill someone, all under Ruki’s instruction. It sat like a brick in the pit of Ruki’s stomach and made his hand clammy.  
  
“On second thought,” Ruki interrupted, his hand finding its own way to rest on Aoi’s shoulder. “I think I’ll just pick ya one.” That made everything easier in a perverted way. Made Ruki feel even more like shit but at least it allowed the fool to keep some of his precious innocence. Being given a gun was a lot different to picking your choice in murder weapon.  
  
Against his better judgement Ruki finally settled on one of the new ones. The flash, fast shooting, long range, not yet released desert eagles and in some warped way he figured that it sort of suited Aoi.  
  
“It’s a good one,” Ruki said, sliding it over to Aoi. “One of the new one’s Uru just got in and probably more advanced than what the assassins have. Easy to shoot and aim and with the barrel alterations it’ll lighten the back kick for ya.”  
  
Aoi’s pale hand slid out and rested on the grip of the gun, not quite touching Ruki’s own. It made no move to actually pick it up, just sat there on top of it, warming it with his presence and stoic silence.  
  
And then Aoi looked up and caught Ruki’s eyes with his own. Ruki felt like he’d just been pinned to the wall, caught in the act of something disgraceful and it left him feeling stunned and lost like some sheep that had strayed away from its flock.  
  
Just looking into those eyes told Ruki more than any words could. Aoi was scared; shit scared and Ruki didn’t blame him. But beyond that there was something else that Ruki could only put down to gratitude. A sense of gratefulness that came with underlying longing though Ruki couldn’t tell for what.  
  
It chilled Ruki to the bone. Not the look itself for it was warm and inviting and holding all of Aoi’s lost puppy stupidity and appeal. But the meaning behind it all was what was cold. Aoi was thanking Ruki for preparing him for all this and that was just creepy.  
  
Ruki had to look away.  
  
“Now, practice,” Ruki said, clearing his throat. He released the gun and reached for an empty magazine and a box of shells. “Load the shells, then the mag. Flick the safety and load a bullet into the chamber by raking the slide. Once ya got all the done I want ya to disengage, empty and start from the beginning again. Do it until it is the _only_ thing you know.”  
  
That was it. That was Ruki’s lesson – duty – done and he wanted the hell away from there. There was nothing more to say, no other words that could even remotely make this situation alright. It was harrowing and demented and filled with all the things that Ruki should hate. He may have killed, he may have been set to take a throne built on a world of organized crime, but he didn’t have to like it.  
  
Slipping easily off the desk Ruki felt his sore knee jar at the action. For a sickening moment he thought it would give way, lock up and become completely useless but he managed to hold it together. He was sure not even Aoi noticed the way Ruki’s hand gripped at the table for support ever so subtly nor the way that he quickly shifted all his weight onto his left leg.  
  
Despite the pain Ruki didn’t want to stay there any longer so he told himself to suck it up and deal while turning on his heels. He didn’t get much further before Aoi’s hand closed around his wrist and gave a somewhat insistent tug. Blinking, Ruki glanced over his shoulder, seeing Aoi looking up at him and instantly balked. There was no way in hell that Ruki was going to look into those eyes again.  
  
“Ruki,” Aoi said and the tone of his voice almost fooled Ruki into believing that Aoi wasn’t the village idiot. “Thanks.” A slight nod, a sniff and a press of his lips together was all the expression that Aoi offered but it somehow spoke volumes. It conveyed all the words that Aoi never said, or fucked up while trying to say them and then some.  
  
Ruki shuddered and played his best card.  
  
“I ain’t doin’ it for you,” Ruki said with a shrug and just like Uruha, the lie came just as easy as breathing. “I just wanna make sure that I don’t get shot in the back by some incompetent fuck-up. Just don’t go killin’ anyone unless ya really have to, ok?”  
  
Again with that nod and that strange pursing of the lips. It was such an odd expression, one that could be either happy or acknowledging his short comings. It fascinated Ruki and managed to keep his attention away from Aoi’s eyes which was a relief.  
  
Aoi’s hand retracted from Ruki’s arm, sliding away to rest back on the desk while his other was still sitting on top of the gun. Defeated. That was the picture Aoi painted. Defeated and confused and eerily lonely.  
  
Something about it made Ruki feel sorry for the guy though he banished the thought as soon as it popped into his head. It wasn’t Ruki’s job to care about the hacker; sure, he may have been in way over his head, lost what little life he had and a friend, but that didn’t change anything. Because of Aoi Ruki was in the exact same situation. He was once again on the run, hunted and scared and fucking hurt with nowhere to go. His life was once again nothing but dust blowing in Uruha’s favourite fucking northerly wind and everyone he had ever loved or considered friend had been lost years ago. Just because Aoi was suffering now didn’t make him any better or worse then Ruki and in a way it was karma.  
  
And there it was; that spiteful little flicker of hate and vengeance and it told Ruki that all was fair in love and war. Aoi had brought it on himself, condemned himself to his fate the moment he started fucking with other people’s lives. It was a harsh lesson and considering what Aoi had done to Ruki’s life, the shorter man was all the more willing to teach it to the moron.  
  
It confused Ruki to no ends. He could feel his mind getting stuck on unimportant thoughts like a car bogged in mud. It was just churning over and over and over again, flicking up globs of dirt while digging itself deeper and deeper into its own mess.  
  
Ruki grimaced and shook his head. That hardly helped but at least it seemed to restore some basic motor function and helped him finally put one foot in front of the other in order to move away from the hacker. Getting away from Aoi was always a good thing and normally did wonders to clear Ruki’s mind.  
  
His random wanderings ended up bringing Ruki to a bumping halt against Uruha’s foot. Uruha was straddling his desk chair, his chin resting on his arms that were draped over the backrest. One leg was bent at the knee, hugging the chair while the other was stretched out and lifted up, being the very thing that had stopped Ruki in his tracks. Ruki blinked and looked down at the grinning man, finding the expression disturbingly creepy, especially since Uruha’s eyes kept flicking from Ruki to Aoi and then back again.  
  
“You were getting pretty cosy over there,” Uruha said with pout. His voice was still as perky as ever, so upbeat and like nothing could frazzle him but the way his lips pushed forward and his eyebrows hung low suggested otherwise. Jealous maybe? Ruki rolled his eyes and tried to ignore it.  
  
“Give’t’a break.”  
  
“I think it’s cute.” Again Ruki just felt that overwhelming need to throttle Uruha until he turned blue. There was nothing cute about the situation and no, he and Aoi were not becoming buddies. Ruki despised him just as much as he had a number of hours ago and as far as Ruki could see, that level of distaste would remain. There were no buts, ifs or maybes about it and the more Uruha kept trying to make them appear out of thin air the more Ruki would prove their non-existence.  
  
“Ain't gonna ‘appen.”  
  
“But-”  
  
“Drop it!”  
  
“Fine,” Uruha said with a sigh and a shrug that made him seem like a fifteen year old girl. He just had that dramatic flare to everything he did; that crazed over-the-top way of acting that made Ruki inwardly flinch. “If you don’t wanna play…” a truly evil smile spread across Uruha’s face then, evil and cunning and Ruki would have fucking piss bolted away – friend or not – had it not been for his sore knee. “We’ll talk about something else. Like… How’s your knee?” The question caught Ruki off guard, his head snapping up so his eyes could lock suspiciously with Uruha’s. The taller man seemed to register Ruki’s shock and much to Ruki’s annoyance Uruha let out a soft chuckle. “Come on Ru, you’re hardly walking on the damn thing. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t notice?”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
“Right.” Uruha didn’t sound like he was buying a single word Ruki said that night and in a way it pissed Ruki off. “And I’m the queen of Sparta – which wouldn’t be that bad, mind you. But the point is you are full of shit and you and I both know that.”  
  
Was this what it was like to have friends, cause it if was Ruki didn’t want them. Maybe he could trade Uruha back just like getting a refund. Claim that the taller man was faulty or something, or that someone had given him one just like it for Christmas. Though the idea of having more than one Uruha around was a truly horrifying thought.  
  
Either way it was annoying and Ruki was quickly working out that the only way to apparently have these so called ‘friends’ was to work out how to lie to them much more convincingly then he did the rest of the world. Of course that within itself was a major pain in the ass and something that Ruki wasn’t up to dealing with at the moment.  
  
“Uruha, I’m ok. Justa bit sore.” Ruki shrugged and grinned at the man, hiding everything behind a mask that slipped into place all too easily. It was convincing too, fucking oath it was and slowly Uruha started to nod, the other’s eyes halting their desperate search of Ruki’s face.  
  
Ruki was in the process of patting himself on the back – figuratively speaking, of course – and telling himself that it was entirely possible to lie to your friends when his perfect little cover got kicked straight out the window.  
  
“Aoi kicked him,” Wataru said as he appeared out of the middle of nowhere. He had his left hand in his pocket, holding something rectangle shaped while holding a half eaten apple in the other. “Ruki almost cried.” Wataru ended his statement by taking a large, loud bite out of the apple.  
  
“Fuck you, I did not.” Ruki spat back. Wataru didn’t rise to the bait, just shrugged and sighed, offered Ruki that annoyingly patronizing grin and then went and sat in the chair next to Aoi. The PI made himself busy by quietly pointing out various parts of the gun in Aoi’s hand and Ruki turned away when he saw Aoi glance up at him with an apologetic smile. Ruki sure as hell didn’t need nor want that from the man.  
  
“Aoi kicked you?” Uruha asked. He tried to remain serious, Ruki could see it in the way his skin tightened around his mouth even though he seemed intent on smiling, but he failed pretty miserably at hiding it. And as always Uruha’s eyes spoke wonders. They managed to always give him away, at least they did to Ruki and it was the best way to tell if the other man was lying or not. “What the hell? Are you two in first grade?”  
  
Ruki tried to ignore Uruha as much as humanly possible which was oddly easy after having spent so much time with him. It seemed the longer you knew the arms dealer the easier he was to tune out completely. With that as his main goal, Ruki hobbled back over to the table, silently cursing his inability to escape from Aoi.  
  
The scowl on his face as he yanked out the chair was apparently enough that neither Wataru nor Aoi said anything, though Ruki could feel the hackers eyes on him the entire time. They had that searching quality to them. That strange ability to break Ruki down just by those dark orbs flicking back and forth while asking their silent questions. Shittiest thing was that while Ruki wasn’t sure how, he felt like he was answering each and every one. _Yes_, he was fine, _no_ his knee was not any better and _yes_, keep practicing with that gun.  
  
Ruki shivered as the click of the mag sliding perfectly into the gun in Aoi’s hands reached his ears in unspoken answer. Again he couldn’t shake the idea that there was something so wrong about all that. It made goosebumps spread out of his skin and his hands shake slightly.  
  
Biting down on his bottom lip, Ruki scratched at the back of his hair before running his hand down to rub at his neck. The lack of sleep was starting to get to him, make him feel achy all over. Fighting the want to yawn, he instead reached out and grabbed the closest gun and a white cloth.  
  
“Don’t go t’work,” Ruki said as he noticed Uruha plonk himself down in the seat next to him. He didn’t look up from the weapon he was polishing as he spoke, merely keep rubbing the cloth over the metal surface until it shone but his minds eye was struck with the mental image that all must have made. Guns everywhere, the four of them sitting around the small table covered in bruises and scratches and otherwise silent as they prepared for what could only be described as a battle.  
  
It was like some unholy take on the Last Supper. Ruki didn’t want to think about whether or not he would be alive to ever sit at a table like this again.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Cause it’s goin’ down tonight and it’s gonna be there.”  
  
“Well then,” Uruha exclaimed. He pushed himself up from his seat, his hands slapping against the top of the table and Ruki saw Aoi jump at the noise. “This calls for a fucking drink.” Without another word the arms dealer headed for the kitchen, leaving the three of them in the room. Whether it was intentional or not, it was just what they needed.  
  
“Are you sure this is going to work?” It was Aoi who asked, his voice soft and almost conspiratorial.  
  
“Was your fuckin’ idea,” Ruki pointed out. And it was too. Most of the plan had come out of that strange mind locked away behind the hacker’s mask of idiocy and Ruki had to admit that he was impressed. Not that he’d say that out loud of course. Still, Aoi had contrived almost all of it, save for the place and time. That had been Ruki, opting to set the trap somewhere he was well acquainted with and at the first possible convenience. That just so happened to be tonight.  
  
Wataru hadn’t said much on the subject but then he’d been pretty quiet since Aoi’s little stunt with the computer. Ruki was starting to think that maybe it was still settling into the PI’s head that things were about to change for once, or maybe he was being the smartest of the lot. No point in getting worked up over something if death pointed at you in just a few hours.  
  
Either way things would be different in the morning.  
  
“Do you two know what you are doing?” Again the need to double and triple check made Ruki’s hands shake. It was one thing to be relying and acting upon his own scatterbrained plan, but when it was someone else’s idea and Ruki had to outright rely on them to keep him alive… It made everything seem like a bad idea. Somehow crazy plans didn’t seem as bad when he was the one to think them up.  
  
Across the table Aoi nodded, his eyes dark and serious in his silence. The way he looked at Ruki made Ruki shudder. For all the moronic stuff the idiot did, he sure as hell had an intently serious stare and maybe Ruki was just as much a fool for believing it, but he felt the other man was trying to assure him of something. Of his willingness to help, maybe, or his dedication to not fuck this all up as per his track record.  
  
“How are you going to lead them out?” Wataru asked. He turned the chair around, placing the back against the side of the table and straddled it. His arms folded on top of each other and he casually rested his chin on his wrists. Ruki felt the mans dark eyes watching him, trying to read and judge his actions and for whatever reason Ruki found himself going out of his way to make it impossible. As time wore on he was getting more and more weary; it was hard to pick and choose who to trust especially since they had decided on just how to lure the assassins to the club.  
  
Ruki was going to play the bait which wasn’t exactly the best of ideas that he had heard all year. In fact it was one of the worst. But it was either him or Aoi and while he wasn’t looking to do the hacker any favours, it was obvious who stood more of a chance of getting back alive.  
  
“Now that,” Ruki said with a devious grin. He didn’t even care that his accent slipped out, leaving his voice clear and crisp and filled with eloquent tones. “Is going to be the real kicker of the evening.”  
  
And like cold steel, Ruki felt Aoi’s eyes on him and for once he couldn’t pick out that undertone of idiocy. In fact he couldn’t pick out anything; just cold and questioning and Ruki was struck with the idea that maybe Aoi was better at hiding his thoughts than even Ruki was. Perhaps he allowed Ruki to see him as stupid and that made Ruki even more nervous.  
  
Tucking the gun into the back of his pants, Ruki leaned back in his seat and peered around the corner of the door. “Yo, Uru! Ya got a toaster?”  
  


*****

**Chapter Seventeen preview:**

  
  
“This is where you’re going to tell me something interesting.” Atsushi prompted the younger officer for more details.  
  
“You betcha,” and again Toru’s pale face broke out into that infectious grin. Atsushi almost found himself mirroring it before he managed to get his features in check. “I got the squad together and pulled the paper boxes from archive, matching the times of each date stamp. Our squeaky clean hacker has got a whole string of convictions under his belt...”


	19. Chapter Seventeen - The best way to cause a distraction

Chapter Seventeen

The best way to cause a distraction

  
*****

  
  
He’d timed it perfectly not that it was much of a surprise. When you lived your life like Ruki, you knew exactly how long it took you to get from one place to another; you knew the short cuts, the sneaky ways around the front doors and almost the exact amount of steps needed. Timing something like this was child’s play compared to some of the more desperate ways he had had to use his knowledge.  
  
It was all rather simple actually. Had Aoi been there to witness it, Ruki would have taken a great deal of pleasure in telling the man how he had contrived the idea. It was like a movie; a secret agent film that Aoi no doubt liked. If anything, the tall hacker had been the inspiration for Ruki’s little fire show, not that he would ever admit that to the other man.  
  
Ruki had always wondered what the point of an electrical timer was. They seemed like one of those inventions that were just pointless and encouraged laziness in people. When Ruki had seen it, all innocent in its little package and with a happy bright yellow sticker on it, there was no way in hell that he could deny buying it, even if it was pointless. Ruki loved the random shit and such a thing would find an easy home in his strange little life.  
  
It had been fun for about a week before the novelty wore off. He’d plugged it straight into the power point, hooked a lamp into it and set the time. He’d done it randomly for the first night, seeing how it worked with all its little dials and pins and letting out a secret giggle every time the light flicked on without him needing to touch it.  
  
When it started to get boring he had simply timed it for when he would get home from work each night. That was nice, not coming up those stairs and entering into a pitch black apartment.  
  
About a week later he had stopped doing even that and the little device had remained forgotten.  
  
Ruki had never had the best attention span.  
  
Yet when Aoi had suggested that they lead the assassins out into the open the first thing that had occurred to Ruki was that little white device, sitting in the hallway power point, completely forgotten and completely alone. Ruki swore that there was something poetic about that though for the life of him he couldn’t tell what it was.  
  
Once the idea came to him the rest was hella easy. Even Ruki had managed to pick up some good delinquent training through all his fancy education. In fact it was almost a proven point that private school boys were the worst of the lot and when it came to making things catch on fire, well, Ruki was a pro.  
  
A little snip of the elements in the toaster, a bit of gas left leaking from his stove and the rest was up to his sweet little timer.  
  
He had plugged that into the socket just above the oven, set the time for nine minutes and then connected the altered toaster and booked it out of there.  
  
Ruki had, of course, grabbed a few other essential items before blowing the place to smithereens. His tool kit and a few blank passports were tossed into his pockets and while he would have loved to take his custom made, untraceable glue, he opted to leave it. Speed was going to be the essence of getting out of here alive so he had to stick to the bare necessities.  
  
That had left him were he was now, standing on the curb and looking at the building while keeping a running count in his head.  
  
_Fifteen… fourteen… thirteen… _  
  
Clearing his throat, Ruki pulled his jacket closed. That was one thing that he would miss, now that he was thinking about it. His clothes. And he had a shit load of them too, and hats and sunglasses and a whole world of things that, just like that little timer, he had had to buy at the time and had just ended up forgotten at the bottom of his closet.  
  
_Nine… eight… seven… six_  
  
All this thinking was starting to hurt his head. Maybe it was still just from his previous confrontation with the assassin or something to do with the lack of weight with his dreads gone, but his head was feeling oddly light. And yet far too heavy, just to make things completely opposite and more painfully confusing.  
  
Only one thing for that sort of feeling. He needed a cigarette.  
  
_Three… two…_  
  
Ruki reached into his jacket, his hand closing around his thin packet of cigarettes. Pulling it out of his pocket he didn’t even blink as the building in front of him, the one that he used to call home, burst into flames.  
  
A giant fireball erupted from the window he knew to be his kitchen – well, what used to be his kitchen – the flames dancing along the side of the building. For a while it was nothing but blinding light and a resounding bang that seemed to linger in the air forever. It echoed off the buildings around him, filling the wide open spaces with the sound of panic and terror.  
  
Simple; a basic circuit worked around the perils of gas and sparks. When the timer had kicked in, starting up the toaster, the electricity had filled the elements inside, preparing to heat them in order to cook the bread. Instead it had sparked, meeting with the broken ends of the wires which it no doubt tried to jump. What had followed was a series of sparks that when mixed with the gas was as good as throwing a lighter into a puddle of gasoline.  
  
Fast, easy, creepily effective and Ruki almost smiled at his own brilliance.  
  
Already people were running out the main door, flocking onto the street and staring up at the flames with the light illuminating the horror in their eyes. Ruki may have been cold, but he did still feel for them. At least a little. Not a single one of them were innocent; they were all hiding in filth and depravity just like Ruki had been. But still, it was a harrowing thought to have all your possessions and life torn away. Ruki knew all about that, probably better than any of the flailing people in front of him.  
  
There would be no sirens though. No red vehicle rushing to save the buildings and anyone trapped within. Hell, had the city known it was Ruki who had instigated the fire they probably would have given him a pat on the back and a free coffee. A job well done in the act of cleaning up the streets.  
  
Ruki reached for his lighter, feeling the steel cold in his hand. He turned it over and over, flicking the top open and closed a few times as he waited. Something about his own calm resolve scared even him. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach, in the very centre of his steady heart; acceptance. It was like the stable foundations of a building or the certainty that the sun would rise in the morning even if he wasn’t here to see it.  
  
Yet not even his hands shook. There was no movement, no bottled up emotion making him feel claustrophobic within himself. Steady movements, controlled actions and clear, clarified thoughts.  
  
He could imagine the picture he created. A motionless, serene figure standing on the curb, backlight by the harsh light of the burning building. Solitary and quiet as the known world crashed down around his feet. Hollow eyes and still lips; nothing to mirror the chaos around him.  
  
Ruki was the perfect target. The most enticing of all bait. An offering to a dark god that lusted for blood and it was only a matter of time before the gods right hand descended down to claim its tribute.  
  
Now all he needed was the hook.  
  
Maybe some higher deity had been listening to his thoughts or maybe it was just pure fate, the outcome of perfect planning, but all it took was two more turns of his lighter before that dark moment came to fulfilment.  
  
There, shining under the light of the flames like some vengeful demon was the assassin. Hands in his pockets, feet apart and head down though Ruki knew that the man was looking at him and him alone. Ruki could feel it. See it replicated in the dancing reflections in the man’s sunglasses; sense the way that the no doubt cold eyes saw him and nothing else. The people surrounding them didn’t matter – hell, they didn’t exists – the fire was nothing, the building a mere canvas background that could easily be ignored. Everything existed solely to frame Ruki like a perfect picture.  
  
In that moment only the two of them existed and Ruki couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad that he knew exactly how the assassin felt.  
  
Even now, facing the man that had been hired to kill him, Ruki found himself refreshingly calm. It was like he had gained a new perspective on the situation which was probably partly true. Push all the fear and anger and desperation aside and the entire situation came down to one godhonest truth.  
  
Either Ruki would die, or he would kill.  
  
That was it. The long and short of it all boiled down to the one obvious fact. Right and wrong didn’t exist; the battle of good versus evil and fuck, even the law and justice for the condemned was nothing more than a complication. A way to cloud the mind and alter reality to the point where the feeble and weak gave in. Ruki had the choice to fight back or lie down, to take the other man out once and for all or have his days reined in short.  
  
Really, when it was put that way, there wasn’t a choice. Ruki had always prided himself on his high sense of self-preservation.  
  
Ruki lit his cigarette, slow and deliberate as he stared the blonde man down. Much like how he had done with Atsushi, Ruki drew in a deep breath of the poisonous addiction before letting it waft between his lips in the direction of the man. They were too far apart for the cloud to surround the assassin but Ruki was sure that he got the point.  
  
It never occurred to him that it might be his last cigarette. Ruki tried not to think of things in that way. If all hell broke loose and fate saw that he was the one to go he could at least be happy that he had smoked his last durry but until then it was just a simple cigarette. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a way to smother his craving and take the edge off his practically non-existent nerves.  
  
Even so, time wasn’t being overly accommodating tonight and Ruki knew that the idea of smoking it all the way down was nothing more than a nice dream. With a sigh he tucked the lighter back into his pants, exhaled another breath of smoke and then stuck it between his lips. It hung from the side of his mouth, white with the tip glowing like blood in the crimson light from the fiery building.  
  
Ruki shrugged again, quirked an eyebrow upwards and decided that there was no better time than now.  
  
“Fuck you.” The words were echoed with the sound of gunfire as Ruki ducked and whipped out his gun. The assassins bullets flew harmlessly over Ruki’s head as he quickly returned fire. People screamed, the sound a collective roar of heart-stopping terror and Ruki did his fucking best to block it out. The crackling snap of the flames faded out as footsteps clattered on the pavement. What the fire had started in the way of striking panic into people’s hearts the gunshots ended. Signed and sealed; the perfect recipe for terror and, even more to Ruki’s liking, the perfect public display.  
  
When Wataru had asked what Ruki’s plan had been, Ruki was sure that the PI never would have thought of this.  
  
The gun in Ruki’s hand jumped back and forth with each squeeze of the trigger and little bursts of fire exploded from the barrel. For the briefest of moments he thought himself completely and utterly insane. Here he was in the middle of the street, with a building in flames behind him and facing down an assassin while he was hardly in any condition to think let alone function. To top it off, Ruki had just had a clear fucking shot at the man and he had deliberately altered his aim.  
  
There was no other way to describe it other than purely bat-fucking mental.  
  
It was a good plan in theory; solid, sound and reasonable but like everything in life all that shit went out the window when you were actually there, staring down the barrel of said plan and trying to keep your head. Both figuratively and physically. If everything went according to plan, Ruki was meant to lead this guy to the bar wherein, hopefully, the blonde assassin would call in his reinforcements in the form of whoever was shooting at Aoi. While it was overly tempting to shoot the short fucker here and now that wouldn’t really solve the problem. No one had seen what Aoi’s attacker even looked like, so at the moment the only link they had to him was through the man currently shooting at Ruki.  
  
Ruki sure as hell didn’t like that. Not one little bit.  
  
No matter what his plan and the niceties that he offered the assassin the other man wasn’t looking at doing Ruki any favours. A bullet whizzing passed his head was the perfect example of such stakes and Ruki knew that he’d be dead in a matter of moments if he didn’t move.  
  
Back stepping, Ruki cast all niceties to the wind and starting using the crowd to his advantage. Slipping between frantic people, he kept his head low and his gun ready as he piss-bolted towards the closest street. He knew this neighbourhood well and now was the perfect time to prove it. All he had to do was give them the run around for a bit, get the assassin annoyed enough to chase him without question and then Ruki’s task would be complete.  
  
Once the assassin was through the door of the club then that was it. The trap was sprung, the stakes were set and one of them wouldn’t be walking out of there.  
  
It was those thoughts that kept Ruki moving forward, kept his heart from beating clear out of his chest and his breath from dying somewhere in the back of his throat.  
  
Somewhere before the darkened safety his knee did the unthinkable. One minute he was running, fighting back the stinging at his eyes with every painful step and then the next he was stuck motionless. A hammer or a bullet probably would have hurt less than the feeling of his leg suddenly seizing up and locking into place. Through some miracle Ruki managed to keep his footing and not fall face first against the ground but it was a small comfort when looking at the larger scheme of things.  
  
Blind panic took control as his mind crashed into despair. Sinking into the very belly of defeat Ruki heaved in a number of sighs, willing his body to move. There was no point looking over his shoulder, no point searching out the blood-hound of a man as just the feeling of being watched was there. The assassin was closing in and fuck everything cause Ruki couldn’t move.  
  
Carefully he tried to alter his weight, balance it out but the pain that spread up his leg was overwhelming. His teeth clenched, his bottom lip getting caught in the grind and all too quickly Ruki tasted blood.  
  
“Move! Just fucking move!” He felt stupid standing there giving himself a prep talk. Idly he wondered if it was more to his mind or to his knee itself as neither felt connected in the slightest.  
  
Stumbling forward he grabbed at the wall, his fingers grating painfully against the rough brick. The skin of his palms tore as he propelled himself along, his good leg as well as his bad tripping over the clutter of rubbish lining the dingy alleyway.  
  
With the wall as a brace, Ruki turned, throwing his back against the brickwork as he crossed his right arm over his body. The gun exploded as he aimed roughly at the entrance of the alleyway. The assassin was already close, backlit and looking larger than life with the flames dancing up behind him. It reminded Ruki of some twisted painting of hell.  
  
The bullets did their job, forcing the assassin to duck for cover before reaching the buildings. That was all Ruki needed. Just a few more trivial little seconds to get his shit together. With the last squeeze of the trigger the slide popped out the back, a hollow sounding click issuing from the gun and Ruki knew he was out of bullets.  
  
That old saying popped into his head. When life handed you lemons, make lemonade but that seemed far too optimistic for his liking. At the moment he felt like he was drowning in the strange yellow fruit and there wasn’t a single bag of sugar to be seen for miles.  
  
Knowing that time was of the essence, Ruki ignored the gun, the pain and his random train of thought and pressed on. Having the wall there to lean on made things a hell of a lot easier but the way that his right leg refused to bend meant that progress was slow. Up ahead he could see the dark, shadowy outline of a dumpster and the low hanging ladder of a fire escape. The latter was neither important nor useful but at least the dumpster would offer him cover long enough to get his shit together.  
  
Hours. It felt like it took him hours to get there; each and every slow limp of his leg seemed to stretch time and reality out of proportion. When his hand finally slid along the cold, coarse surface of the dumpster, the peeling paint flaking from the metal at his touch, Ruki felt like he had run a marathon.  
  
Pressing himself against the dumpster, Ruki propped his useless right leg out straight and bent himself at the knee of his left. His back skimmed against the metal container, chilling him through his shirt and jacket as the material gathered and caught against the containers filth. Ignoring it all, Ruki ejected the magazine from his gun, letting the empty metal casing clatter uselessly to the ground. He wasn’t going to have the time to painstakingly refill the mag with spare bullets so there really was no need carrying the thing around. Instead he pulled an already filled one out of his back pocket and slid it into the base of the grip. The mag clicked into place with a sound that just seemed to make everything better. Racking the slide, Ruki loaded the first round into the chamber and held the gun at the ready.  
  
His breath was coming in short little gasps and despite the seriousness of the situation Ruki had the ability to note that he obviously smoked too much. It was starting to run amuck with his health. Probably didn’t help in the slightest that his rib was throbbing with the power of a thousand bricks sitting on his chest. Shitty as the situation was, his knee sure as hell wasn’t any better but he tried not to think about that one. He’d rather spend his time worrying about the effects of lung cancer or a cracked rib then his knee’s inability to move. Thinking about that too much made his cheeks flush in anger; anger at his own shortcomings and his inadequacy the first time he’d collided with the assassin. If he had handled that better then he wouldn’t be in this fucking mess now and that was a sure fire way to make him feel like some incompetent fuck-up.  
  
The sound of gunfire caused Ruki to flinch and before he knew it that automatic reaction to danger kicked in.  
  
If asked he would deny that his brain actually worked; he’d admit that in such a moment there was no thought. Just pure impulse mixed with an almost sixth sense like ability to move. Not once did it enter his mind that the assassin was behind him but the bullet was coming from the other direction. That didn’t matter, that thought didn’t happen at all. Ruki just _knew_ and whether it was luck, skill or divine intervention Ruki managed to get his head the fuck out of the way before the bullet had the chance to shatter into his skull.  
  
Ruki’s leg slipped out from under him, his knee staying straight as he toppled over. Catching himself on his hands, he narrowly missed taking a face first dive into the concrete even as he inwardly yelled at himself for his stupidity. Thankfully he balanced perfectly, like a cat dropped from a great height with both hands in front of him, his left leg bent drastically at the knee and his right outstretched.  
  
Glancing up he saw the dark outline of the unknown shooter. The man walked casually through the grimy streets, his shadow passing through the fire-highlighted smoke before coming to a stop where the red of the distant flames illuminated his face.  
  
No introductions needed to be made; there was no doubt in Ruki’s mind as to just who this guy was. The way he held himself, the lift of the chin and the casual yet square shoulders spoke more than any muttered words or proclaimed titles.  
  
This man was trained to kill and much like the crazy little blonde shit who’d been following Ruki, this man enjoyed his job. Ruki could see it in his posture, in the way that the man’s gun rested gently against his thigh even though his arm was loose and relaxed. A cat playing with a mouse.  
  
Tall, dark and undeniably handsome, the other assassin was almost everything that the first wasn’t. All it took was one moment of horrifying clarity – or confusion – to see a mirror of himself and Aoi in the eyes of the hitmen. Perfect, pronounced and oh so similar that it was creepy.  
  
Ruki was staring, he was well aware of that fact, but somewhere in the midst of it all his mind had changed topics. Fuck the similarities between them all. Now all he could think of was how well and truly fucked _he_ was.  
  
“Shit,” Ruki cursed and for a moment his brain was frozen. For all his planning, for all his careful calculations and timing, he was suddenly stuck and lost as to what to do. Granted that the idea of the assassins actually working as a team had occurred to him, he’d apparently been too trusting in the likelihood that it wouldn’t happen until absolutely necessary. Until Ruki, Wataru and that useless idiot were pounding their asses in the club. Only then and there did Ruki think that team play would come into it. Contract killers didn’t play nice with others and Ruki was sure that it was a written rule somewhere.  
  
They weren’t meant to cooperate at all. Especially not now, not like this and not when he was stuck in a shitty alleyway with a knee that just wouldn’t fucking work.  
  
Seeing no other choice, Ruki locked his attention on a shitty bit of cover, swore at himself and pushed his body into overdrive. It was hard to get started, his knee still frozen in the strangest of burning pain, but he eventually got a half-hearted hobbling jog going. It was pathetic and the fact that both the assassins let him move told him wonders about what they thought of it. Crippled target; it must have been like hunting a lame deer or something just as pitiful. A game that their twisted minds were probably looking forward to.  
  
Then everything changed and Ruki was sure that the world spun a full one-eighty before landing on its head.  
  
There was a loud, teeth grating noise from the end of the alleyway and the sound of rushed gunshots. Somewhere in the distance Ruki was sure that he heard someone screaming and the sound of running feet and through everything Ruki had the heart to feel sorry of those who lived in this neighbourhood. These streets were home to a lot of twisted, violent and no doubt sick things but Ruki was sure that nothing of this size had gone down in awhile.  
  
The smell of burning rubber managed to somehow overpower that of the gas explosion and Ruki looked up just in time to see the origin of the painfully loud noise.  
  
“What the fuck?” Ruki skidded to a stop, his hands snapping up to cover his head as the sound of screeching tires filled the alleyway. He didn’t have time to look, time to think even before he threw himself to the left, diving rather ungracefully into a heap of debris. Gunshots and burning rubber filled the alleyway, setting Ruki’s teeth on edge as all his calm masks crumbled completely.  
  
Ruki peered up between his crossed arms, seeing a dark bike come screeching down the alleyway. Maybe the driver didn’t see the taller assassin or maybe he did and that was the point, but the bike flew straight at the gunman. The assassin seemed frozen in place, only his gun arm moving though it travelled with all the speed and grace of a snail. Nothing could match the speeding bike, not even years and years of intense weapons training.  
  
Then it happened. It was like something out of all those fucking movies that Aoi kept making reference to. The bike slowed, the tires screaming as they left a coating of dark rubber on the ground. Ruki could smell the stench of rubber getting worse even as the rider yanked the handlebars to the right and lurched forward in his seat. For a moment Ruki was sure that the man had lost it, that the bike was about to fishtail and flip ass over head and that all Ruki’s hopes of aid would be lost. But then the driver pulled it all under control like some crazed action hero and even though the back tire lifted clear off the ground and the bike started spinning to the right, he continued to keep it perfectly manageable.  
  
Crazy action movie sequence and damned if Ruki wasn’t watching, eyes huge and mouth open as the still spinning back tire bowled the darkhaired assassin clean off his feet.  
  
Ruki was impressed; feeling a little bit inadequate but impressed nonetheless.  
  
Just as quickly as it had all began the moment disappeared. The rider shifted his weight, levelling the bike and bringing it to an actual stop while pulling a gun out from underneath his jacket. The darkhaired assassin was gone, running for the closest door with his head down and his gun glinting with each pump of his arms. The bike driver started to shoot, first at the fleeing assassin and then at the shorter blonde gunman at the end of the passage.  
  
Bullets crisscrossed all over the alleyway, ricocheting off the bricks and cement alike. Ruki covered his ears and prayed that none of the stray slugs would hit him. Shot by his own mystery saviour; somehow that hardly seemed like a fair way to go.  
  
Finally the gun made an empty clicking sound before it was dropped onto the pavement. There were no answering shots from either the end of the lane or the side buildings and Ruki took that as a good thing. He doubted that the assassins were dead – or even wounded as the riders shooting left something to be desired – but at least it caused them to back off a bit.  
  
The bike again roared into life only this time it came towards Ruki. Everything told him to run, to get his fucking arse in gear and get the hell out of there, but something had him rooted to the spot and staring straight at it, even as it pulled up less than a meter from his crouched position.  
  
Ruki recognised the bike. Clear as fucking day and no mistake about it.  
  
It was Uruha’s but the rider was certainly not the tall, blonde bartender. Not in the slightest.  
  
Aoi.  
  
Ruki just stood there, his gun loose in his hand and his eyes huge. He was sure that his mouth was open, his jaw somewhere down near his chest and his shoulders were slumped in an embarrassing display of shock.  
  
Dressed all in black he cut an imposing figure on the top of the bike. Aoi had his hair pulled back loosely at the nap of his neck though most of his fringe hung in dark strands around his eyes. However it was more the face that had Ruki staring at him. That familiar lip ring was plain and clear to see, sitting in contrast against Aoi’s pale skin and not at all being nibbled on. Large dark rimmed sunglasses covered his eyes and maybe it was just Ruki’s obsession for the eye accessories but something about them and that lip ring made Aoi look like he was the most confident man in the world.  
  
There was no trace of that idiot that Ruki had dealt with on so many occasions. Confidence and calm restraint seemed to just ooze out of the other man, overriding the fact that his shooting was somewhat shitty and that, on closer inspection, Aoi’s knuckles were white as chalk around the handles.  
  
Ruki looked at Aoi’s hands, seeing the only sign of the other’s sheltered self and as he looked up, he saw that lip ring disappear quickly between two rows of white teeth.  
  
Ruki actually smiled.  
  
In a way that made Ruki feel better. Seeing that trace of nervousness still simmering under the surface was a nice little bit of reassurance and somehow managed to calm his own nerves. It spoke wonders for Aoi too. That he was just as terrified as he always had been and yet he was there, once again blazing in to save Ruki and faking his confidence for all it was worth.  
  
For a split second Ruki didn’t hate the guy.  
  
“Get on.” And then the idea of being physically close to that idiot saw Ruki’s disdain returning threefold. His nose scrunched up and his lips pressed into a pout as he regarded the man side on and with as much suspicion as he could manage. The idea of getting onto a huge bike with that fool at the controls was not at all appealing and Ruki couldn’t help but wonder if Aoi even knew the basics of driving. After all, Ruki was a firm believer that anyone could drive a bike into an alleyway and let off a few shitty shots; or at least that was what he told himself to help make Aoi continue to seem incompetent.  
  
“Get on or limp all the way back with them right behind you.”  
  
Well, when Aoi put it that way there really wasn’t much of an option. Not to mention that Ruki felt completely and utterly told off. It was like he was being scolded for doing something naughty by an angry parent or, even worse, a pissed off partner.  
  
Ruki was sure that his face completely gave him away as even he felt the way his eyes expanded and his mouth dropped open another few inches. He blinked for a moment, his whole head jolting back on his neck in shock at the man’s domineering words. It seemed so unlike Aoi that Ruki was not only taken by surprise, but he was actually somewhat impressed.  
  
As if seeing Ruki’s little freak out for exactly what it was Aoi’s hand moved off one of the handlebars and stretched out. The man’s large hand closed over Ruki’s wrist, tugging him forward and steering him towards the back of the bike. “Come on Ru, we don’t have time.”  
  
“Ruki,” the shorter man instantly corrected him. Only his friends got to call him ‘Ru’. Or, well, only his fake half friends anyway. Despite that, Ruki didn’t waste any more time and, with a sigh and a muttered curse, he reached out and grabbed Aoi’s hips. Lifting one leg, he swung it over the bike, finding it a little hard to keep his balance. Aoi’s hand again reached for him, this time settling on Ruki’s right hip as a way to help the smaller man get onto the large bike. With a little push and a slight pull, Ruki was settled in behind Aoi and fully ready to kill the other man if he said anything about Ruki’s height proving to be such an issue.  
  
Ruki wasn’t short it was just that Uruha had a shitfully huge bike. The blonde bartender had often joked that there was no feeling better than having 1352cc’s of horsepower between his legs and Ruki was sure that the only reason Uruha chose the monstrous bike was so he could say just that.  
  
The oddest thing however was that Aoi handled it like a fucking pro. He kicked the ignition, twisted the accelerator and tucked his foot up onto the rests, the heel of his boot fitting snugly. They took off just like that. No screeching, no fishtailing under the intense speed. Nothing. And as they drove Ruki found it just got stranger and stranger. There was no skidding, no hesitation and fucked if Aoi didn’t take the corners with some of the best brake turns Ruki had ever seen. Ruki was sure that even Uruha couldn’t handle this beast as well as Aoi did and what’s more, Aoi wasn’t even breaking a sweat.  
  
Bullets clawed at the air overhead, causing Ruki to flinch as he held onto the other man. To Aoi’s credit he managed to control the bike with surprising ease, guiding it in and out of complicated corners and zigzag patterns to keep the bullets away from them. He weaved down the streets, leaning left then right and then left again in a smooth yet random pattern, making them impossible to mark. Ruki was impressed.  
  
Unfortunately though, they were going too fast, zooming down the cluttered back streets at a breakneck speed that saw Ruki holding on even tighter. Varying wants battled in his head and he couldn’t decided whether it was best to close his eyes or keep them open so he’d at least see his immanent death coming. While getting away from the assassins felt undeniably right, it wasn’t part of the master plan and despite himself, Ruki found that a sense of panic was working up inside his heart. They needed to slow down, needed to lead the two men along the roads and to the club else all their planning, all of Ruki’s destruction of his home would be for nothing.  
  
“They have to follow us,” Ruki hissed into the other’s ear. His breath pushed Aoi’s hair about his face, making the dark strands tickle the other’s skin. Aoi sniffed at it, twitching his nose as if he were about to sneeze. Ruki resisted the urge to grin, his mind all too clear on just how much time they were wasting. The last thing they wanted was to squander their little spark of surprise and the power that it had over the two assassins. “Aoi?”  
  
Aoi merely nodded. It was that slow, thinking sort of nod where his lips were pursed together, making his jaw bone defined under tight skin. It briefly occurred to Ruki that it was odd that he could pick the man’s expression from where he was sitting behind Aoi, but he gathered that he had been staring at nothing but the hackers ugly face for ages now so it was completely understandable that he could visualise it clear as day.  
  
“I’ve got an idea.” Ruki had heard those words once before and he had instantly dismissed them. Now, as much as he despised the fact, he was willing to hear the man out. See what else that strange mind could concoct. No doubt it would at least give Ruki something else to hold over the other man at least.  
  
“Hold on.” Faced with no other option, Ruki tightened his arms around Aoi’s waist. He crossed his wrists over so his hands could grab his forearms to add to his grip and no sooner had he done so, Ruki felt Aoi’s right arm jerk as he pumped up the speed. Ruki grimaced and prayed for the best and that if the crashing and dying was going to happen, that it would at least be quick.  
  
They zoomed down a small alleyway, the tires eating up the road and flicking up bits of debris and rubbish as they went. Once or twice they came close to hitting something that Ruki was positive would take them out for good but through sheer fucking luck – cause Ruki refused to admit that Aoi had any skill at all – they managed to miss it as they swerved ever so slightly to the side.  
  
It was the most horrific ride of Ruki’s life and yet Aoi, for all his idiocy and wonderful ability to panic, seemed utterly at ease. It made Ruki even more nervous.  
  
Ruki didn’t even see the corner that Aoi then turned into. It was so poky and narrow, more just a crumbling pathway than a street, but somehow Aoi managed to slam on the breaks, turn and speed up again as if it was all second nature. For a moment Ruki was almost envious of the other man which was a completely new feeling. They shot down the pavement, Aoi’s hair flicking out behind him and hitting Ruki in the face and then took another sharp right that left Ruki clinging to the other man for dear life.  
  
Aoi turned the handlebars to the right and squeezed the brakes. The bike screeched, the tires leaving a trail of rubber on the grimy road as he pulled the road bike into a half-turn stop. Ruki gulped and tried not to look too shaken as Aoi reached down and pried Ruki’s hands from his waist.  
  
“It was a hell of a lot more fun running from cops.” Aoi muttered and Ruki’s already confused mind seemed to do flip-flops before dripping out his ears.  
  
“What?” Ruki asked even though he wasn’t too sure that he wanted to know the answer to his question. Ruki had had his fair share of cops so it wasn’t like he could really judge, but something about Aoi didn’t strike him as the wanted type. Well, other than for his nerdy ways.  
  
“Off,” Aoi commanded, disregarding Ruki’s question and the smaller man found himself opting to just follow the order and not question it. He again used Aoi as a brace as he rotated his leg behind him and slipped off the huge bloody thing. As his right leg hit the pavement he felt his knee buckle slightly. Shifting his weight quickly, Ruki tried to hide the blunder as best as he could but a slight twitch of Aoi’s eyebrow told him he’d been too slow. Just fucking perfect. Now the idiot would probably go and get some huge head-trip about dashing off to Ruki’s rescue again.  
  
“What’s your plan?” Ruki asked, determined to take attention off his own shortcoming. Aoi was straightening himself up, untwisting his jacket and flexing his hands a few times. Ruki could see the redness of Aoi’s palms caused by the handlebars and it was pretty easy to tell that the skin would probably blister. “Why did we stop?” Aoi didn’t answer and Ruki felt a flare of anger ignite in him. Like always his tempter brought his attitude and Ruki couldn’t help but lay into the other man verbally. “If ya think ya lost them then ya stupid. They would’ve heard ya stop from a mile away.”  
  
Aoi dismounted the bike, again with ease that pissed Ruki the hell off, and sent Ruki a glare. “I was counting on that.” The patronizing tones couldn’t be missed in his voice and Ruki instantly crossed his arms over his chest in retaliation. To Ruki’s surprise Aoi actually took a step closer to him, all dark eyes and lowered head and hell must have frozen over as Aoi actually looked like some hardened gangster. Tall and dangerous in all his black and for the tiniest of moments Ruki saw him as something sexy.  
  
“So what? We gonna kangaroo hop all the way to the club?” Fighting was a good way for Ruki to distract himself from his own thoughts considering how disturbing they were.  
  
“Back on,” and fucked if Aoi wasn’t starting to remind Ruki of Wataru. Maybe those two had been spending too much time with each other lately as Aoi’s normally stupid, rambling sentences had been somehow reduced to monosyllabic words grunted out with some alien sense of confidence.  
  
“What?” Aoi took another step closer and Ruki mirrored it with a limp backwards. Something about the others eyes didn’t exactly promote a high sense of trust and Aoi sure as all fuck looked like he was about ready to burst and eat Ruki up right then and there.  
  
It was that dark side of him again; Ruki didn’t have to be a genius to tell that. Fucked if he could work out what brought it out in the other man though. There was no pattern that Ruki could see, just random outbursts of danger and hatred, all accentuated with confidence and an overwhelming sense of darkness.  
  
It would have been utterly fascinating if Ruki wasn’t smartly scared by it.  
  
“You’re going to get on the bike and go back to the club.” Aoi was speaking slowly now and in a tone that didn’t allow Ruki the chance to rejoice at the sheer number of words in the sentence. “I’ll lead them there.”  
  
“Fuck off.”  
  
“Now!”  
  
“No!” even Ruki was proud of just how indigent his voice sounded as Aoi’s index finger pointed at the bike. It wasn’t like Ruki was some kid getting sent to his room, or, even worse and more how it felt, some scolded pet getting yelled at by its master. If Aoi wanted to even try to treat Ruki like that then he’d have a damn big fight on his hands.  
  
“You can’t just command me around like a fuckin’-what the hell do you think you are doing?” Ruki’s rant changed mid sentence as Aoi’s hand closed over his upper arm. If he needed a reminder of their height difference that was surely it as Aoi’s fingers not only touched his thumb but covered it as they squeezed Ruki’s arm in a death grip. Ruki yelped in pain as the other man yanked him clear off his good leg and started dragging him towards the bike. “What the hell?”  
  
“Your knee is fucked,” Aoi stated matter-of-factly and Ruki was too caught up in the moment to even notice that the other man had sworn. That seemed to be somewhat of an odd occurrence for the normally well-mannered nerd; Ruki was starting to think that he was the only one with the ability to swear like a sailor.  
  
“I’m fine.” It was starting to get like a fucking broken record and Ruki was sick of it. Sure, it hurt and sure, he’d had a bit of trouble with it earlier but that was between him and his knee and should make no never mind to anyone else.  
  
And then Aoi did it and all bets were officially off and the bookie was murdered. Ruki would kill the other man, there was nothing else to it and considering he had already made up his mind when Aoi had kicked him the night before, this simply reaffirmed the need. Death would come soon and it would be fucking painful.  
  
Bending down, Aoi yanked on Ruki’s arm, kicked at the smaller man’s feet and all too suddenly Ruki felt Aoi’s shoulder pressing into his stomach and his world turned upside down. Ruki’s vision blurred to black as anger took over but before he could start thrashing Aoi pinned Ruki’s legs to his chest with one freakishly strong arm and Ruki was rendered fundamentally useless.  
  
To make matters worse, Aoi whistled. _Whistled_, for fucks sake and that sound alone signed and stamped his death warrant.  
  
“Put me the fuck down!” Aoi didn’t say anything. He merely walked them forward, apparently oblivious to Ruki’s squirming and shouting and pounding. Ruki huffed and flexed his jaw, words failing him in his all consuming anger.  
  
“Then get on the fucking bike and go.” Aoi dumped him down. There was no other word for it other than dumped. Ruki felt himself slipping backwards off the man’s shoulder even though it was a guided movement and then the seat of the bike bumped against his arse. Aoi still had him by his upper arm and Ruki was sure as day that he’d be bruised there in a matter of hours. With a crazily easy motion, Aoi grabbed Ruki’s left leg and forced it over the bike before slamming the smaller man’s hands against the handlebars.  
  
Feeling somewhat like a ragdoll, Ruki huffed and tried to pull his hands free. Aoi trapped them there, squeezing down in a way that was not painful and seemed to resemble something caring. “Please, just go.”  
  
There was something in Aoi’s eyes. Something so clear and genuine that Ruki actually shuddered. It was a deep, bone rattling shiver that not only travelled up his spine but also out through every limb and made his teeth rattle. “Fine!”  
  
“Good.” Once again the terribly mature side of both of them seemed to surface and Ruki felt a blush colour his cheeks at just how stupid they were both acting.  
  
Ruki sat there for a moment, balancing on the huge bike and feeling like a midget. He tried not to worry about his ability to control the damn thing and told himself that as long as he went somewhat slowly he should be fine. He used to ride bikes all the time; though this thing wasn’t really a bike. It was some huge black fucking monster that would happily plough him into the closest wall and, knowing Ruki’s luck, he would go splat while the bike would be utterly fine.  
  
And there he was pulling what he somewhat oddly referred to as an ‘Aoi’ wherein his mind went one way instead of going the way it was meant to. It left him confused and feeling strange somewhere in the middle while trying to focus his thought on something that he didn’t know.  
  
Then it came to him. The thought that he was meant to be focusing on all this time and once it was there in the forefront of his mind, there was no getting rid of it. “Why are you doing this?”  
  
Aoi sighed and even though Ruki wasn’t looking at him the taller man diverted his gaze and focused on the end of the alleyway. “Because,” Aoi said, slow and drawn out to the point where Ruki just knew that he didn’t really have an answer. “They’ll kill you before you even get the chance to strike back.”  
  
Aoi’s words were nothing but sincere and Ruki made a mental note to hold off on the amount of pain he inflicted when he finally got around to killing the idiot. Even so Ruki was drawing a blank on what to say to that. ‘Thank you’ didn’t seem to make much sense and yet all his willingness to fight and argue had officially vanished with the way Aoi was looking at him.  
  
“At least take this.” Ruki reached behind him and pulled out his gun and his last spare clip. It wasn’t much but hopefully it would help. Besides, maybe if Aoi continued his shitty shooting he’d somehow manage to fool the assassins into thinking that he had backup hidden somewhere.  
  
“Keep it,” Aoi said. His black spiral piecing disappeared between his teeth as he finally looked Ruki in the eyes. “Just in case.”  
  
Ruki was about to protest when Aoi moved to the back of the bike. It was strange how some little things all made sense now when he thought about it. Ruki had always wondered why the hell Uruha had chosen a bike like this but considering his alternate profession, all the storage area must have been a plus. Aoi proved that by opening up one of the back compartments and pulling out two pistols. Ruki could have hugged the guy; apparently he was learning.  
  
“I really hate these things,” Aoi muttered as he clipped them to his belt. Apparently he’d had even more foresight to think of getting a few holsters out of Uruha’s place and Ruki actually felt stupid for not doing the same. He was sure he’d never get used to that feeling of being proven inadequate by someone he deemed a moron.  
  
“Are you sure about this?” It was no doubt a pointless question but Ruki felt he had to ask. Maybe Aoi was doing it all for shits and giggles or it was just a way to test Ruki’s reaction. Either that or, like everything else Aoi did, the hacker didn’t understand just how dangerous all this was. It was hardly a game of tag or hide and seek and one fuckup would lead to his death. But then again maybe Aoi was well aware of that and he had made a sort of peace with himself in a way that Ruki couldn’t.  
  
Aoi grinned at him then and for the second time Ruki saw that spark of intelligence in his eyes. Crazy, mental as all fuck intelligence. “Don’t worry, I’m quite good at this whole running thing.”  
  
Ruki almost laughed. It was true in a way and if anyone could pull off a crazed dash like this it was probably Aoi. The man had a gift for shutting his eyes and running like hell though Ruki would die before ever saying that out loud. The only thing with gifts like that was that they eventually vanished; faded out of existence with a run that was too long and a well aimed bullet.  
  
The moment was ruined by a loud bang and a small explosion of rubble bursting out from the nearby wall. Both men jumped and for the first time Ruki saw that panicked look tangle itself into Aoi’s features. The assassins were catching up and had seen them.  
  
“Go!”  
  
Ruki nodded and forced himself to look away. Something gave him the feeling that if he didn’t do it in that instant then he wouldn’t be able to leave and that would just be a bad thing. They couldn’t hope to lead the assassins on the bike – plus they would probably start to suspect something after awhile – and there was no way in hell that Ruki could run. If he stayed with Aoi all that he would likely achieve was to get them both killed.  
  
Resolution set in and Ruki kicked the rest back up and started the bike. The sound of the engine masked his deep sigh and as much as he wanted to, he refused to let himself look over at Aoi. Instead he twisted the handle and straightened up the front wheel as he took off.  
  
His driving was nothing like Aoi’s; there was no style, no fast take offs that made him seem like a street racer. In fact he wobbled dangerously as he started to pick up speed and almost wiped himself out on the first corner but after that he got the feel for it. Uruha’s bike was massive which made steering hard and Ruki made a note to whack Uruha for his shitty choice.  
  
Slowly but surely he put distance between himself and Aoi, all the while manoeuvring towards the club and the trap waiting there. He liked to think that had they not had to lead the assassins the whole way that he would have gone back for Aoi, but there was no real way to tell. Ruki’s ever present need to keep himself alive had kicked in full force and while Aoi had acted to selflessly to come and get him, Ruki was far from sure that he could ever do the same.  
  
In the distance Ruki heard the sound of gunfire and shattering glass. For the briefest of moments he squeezed his eyes closed and not for the first time that night he found himself praying – begging – whatever gods would listen. Only this time it wasn’t for himself. Well, it still was in a way, but all he wanted was to be able to see the hacker alive and well again and for that not to have been their last meeting.  
  
Even if it was just to kill the man himself for his stubbornness and idiocy.  
  


*****

  
“We got him!” Atsushi almost jumped out of his skin. As it was he managed to hit his knee on the underside of his desk as his body jolted in shock. There was none of that knocking, the bowing or the customary ‘sir’ that Toru normally instigated a conversation with. Just a rapt smile, a file in hand and an excited glint in his eyes. Said file shook a few times, the cream coloured front and the white pages within flapping with self importance that mirrored Toru’s overjoyed look.

“We have a match to the blood sample,” Toru continued; apparently Atsushi didn’t rise to the bait quick enough. “Which matches a thumb print found on the document in that basement apartment.” The file was dumped on Atsushi’s desk, not parallel to anything and for a moment Atsushi grimaced. But he was sure he could overlook that little detail if he tried, though the want to straighten it was somewhat overbearing. If what Toru said was true then this would be their first major break on the case.

Atsushi’s left eyebrow rose elegantly at the statement. That was defiantly good news and the gods knew that they needed some of that at the moment. Dark eyes flicked down to the file, skimming over the words printed on the top and the large, red stamp marking it as confidential. He could practically feel his fingers twitching to touch it, to open it up and hopefully expose that link that he had been missing all this time.

“One Shiroyama Yuu,” Toru said, obviously reciting the file from memory and making Atsushi jump again. “Age 24, moved here from Mei with his father when he was still a kid. Squeaky clean record. Well, almost.” Atsushi looked up to see Toru grinning from ear to ear.

“Tell me.” Opting to indulge the younger officer, Atsushi pushed the file to the side, happy to let Toru continue to narrate his knowledge. Toru beamed brighter – if possible – and offered Atsushi a quick bow. His hands clasped behind his back, his head titled slightly to the side as, much to Atsushi’s interest, the younger man began to pace.

“Shiroyama dropped off the radar a few years ago. Not odd for this part of town but in light of everything... Well, I did some digging with Nero and you’d never believe what we found.” Atsushi raised an eyebrow in support, encouraging Toru to continue.

“At fifteen he was found guilty of spreading a computer virus which had a dramatic impact on networked computers. Things like banks, police stations and businesses all went down. But with his age and the sketchy laws on what was and wasn’t accepted within the newly formed computer legislation, he suffered nothing more than three months in a juvenile detention centre followed by two hundred hours community service.”

That was good news. Atsushi smiled, not wide and overflowing with emotion like Toru but a smile nonetheless. “So he is our hacker?”

“Oh, it gets better.” Toru’s grin didn’t seem to be going anywhere so Atsushi made himself comfortable. While he wanted to leap at what they had already found it would be fruitless if he didn’t get the whole story. Plus, just knowing the guys name didn’t do wonders in helping the search for him. Sure, they could put a trace on all airports and express trains but that would only work if he hadn’t already hooked himself up with another alias.

“You see, his file has been tapped into. Multiple times. Nothing unexpected considering his expertise but there was no connection between the date stamps.”

“Date stamps?” Atsushi saw Toru backtrack mentally. The only outward sign of the stumble was the slight hitch in his voice and the less than obvious tap of his hand by his side, as if rapping out a beat.

“When this guy hacks into somewhere, the thing that makes him so good at covering his tracks is his ability to override the main collection drive of a system. All activity, suspicious or not, is recorded by this system; the file name, the time and so forth. But this guy, he somehow gets in there and changes or deletes that record. Obviously this is a new skill he’s developed as he lacked it just a few years ago. With his file the access times were all over the place. Either he was hacking in for fun whenever the hell he felt like it, or he was checking on something. So I got Nero to do a recovery run…”

“But of course it turned up nothing.” Atsushi supplied. He may not have been completely up to date with the ever advancing world of computers but he was still a good cop and damn good at anticipating his opponent’s next move.

“Of course not. He’s too smart to leave any fragmented information in our system. According to his computer record he is as straight as they come.” It was a defeated sort of statement but Toru’s demeanour made no change. His shoulders remained square, his head high and his jaw set tightly and Atsushi just knew that this wasn’t the end of the story.

“This is where you’re going to tell me something interesting.”

“You betcha,” and again Toru’s pale face broke out into that infectious grin. Atsushi almost found himself mirroring it before he managed to get his features in check. “I got the squad together and pulled the paper boxes from archive, matching the times of each date stamp. This guy’s got a string of convictions.” Atsushi’s eyebrow rose questioningly. Somehow he hadn’t expected this guy to ever get caught. He seemed too smart, too careful and calculating to let something like that happen. “Most are considered small time, but there is enough there that all the little small times add up to one huge record.”

“Small time?”

“Mainly revolving around theft and grand theft auto. The notes say that he ran with a bit of a bosozoku gang when he was younger – no ties to the Yakuza – but they were a damn big deal. They pretty much owned the streets and had a speciality of stealing cars and selling them out of town. And they weren’t ones for subtlety either. What made them so quick were their bike escorts and on more than one occasion abduction files were charged when they stole cars out of traffic line-ups, driver, passenger and all.

“Quite profitable until something happened. Desertion in the ranks maybe, but either way the leader wound up in the bottom of the river, not a single trace of evidence on him and the gang fell apart with him.”

“You said mostly small?” While it was all interesting, Atsushi wanted to get to the punch line. Find that little thing about this guy that made him tick and that could possibly break the case. That was what these sorts of time races came down to. One tiny little thing that would take Atsushi out of second place and boost him up to the lead.

“Here’s the kicker,” Toru said. He moved around the desk and came to stand at Atsushi’s right side. Reaching over, he flipped the file open, thumbing through the first few pages until he reached one at the bottom. “His mother died when he was really young. Friends and neighbours said that the father beat her but there was not enough evidence to form a solid case. But then his father died a number years ago; a few months _after_ Shiroyama disappeared from home and subsequently off our records. Evidence at the scene however proved that he had been there just prior to the death.”

“Suspicious circumstances?”

“If by suspicious you mean a cocktail of drugs in the deceased’s system as well as blunt force trauma to the head, then yes. Apparently the guy was a bit of a drunkard but no record of him being a user exists. It was Christmas,” Toru added with a regretful shake of his head, “the station was swamped and on the grand scale of things it wasn’t that much of a case.

“Officially, the guy overdosed and slipped, hitting the back of his head on the counter which caused the contusions. He bled out for a bit before the drugs took hold and he ODed on the floor.”

“And this isn’t plausible why?” Atsushi could already guess the answer. Something about it seemed too clean, too convenient even for their meticulous hacker.

“Because of the coroner’s report. There was severe bruising around the head wound which yes, is expected, but they said that it was different. Down here,” Toru said, his long index finger pointing to a highlighted section of the photocopied page. “‘…Bruising would suggest multiple blows to the skull.’ Now I don’t care how off your face you are, you don’t fall down and hit yourself in the exact same spot on the head more than once. Especially not after a visit from the less than golden son.”

“Was Shiroyama a suspect?”

“Chief listed, yes,” Toru said, straightening up. He turned and rested the top of his thighs against Atsushi’s desk, reclining in that way that Atsushi was sure only Toru could. Toru’s arms folded across his chest and Atsushi was able to watch as the excitement slowly drained from the younger man’s eyes. “But no one could find him. Nothing has been heard of him since and there have been no other alterations to his file. Shiroyama Yuu has pretty much ceased to exist these last few years; not so much as a parking ticket.”

Atsushi frowned. People disappeared in this city all the time, some by choice and others by force. But with such a history and reputation Atsushi hardly thought it was due to the latter. His training told him the clear cut version of the story; Shiroyama Yuu was good; good at hiding, good at covering his tracks and most likely good at living with his own lies and facades.

Still, that didn’t cover for the fact that the apparent murder had gone unsolved. Even if Shiroyama had gone underground, if he was a suspect he should have remained on the police’s main list of wanted felons at least until he cleared his name. “It’s bad police work. Why wasn’t more attention spent on trying to find him?”

Toru shrugged and rubbed at his upper arms. He had a strange expression in his eyes which suddenly looked tired and vacant. For the first time Atsushi noticed the dark circles under the other eyes, ringing them with shadow which made the bloodshot corners stand out even starker. “As I said, it was Christmas and things were busy. Station was swamped and everyone knows families take up so much more time. But guess whose case it was?”

For a horrifying moment Atsushi thought it may have been his. It was going back almost eight years and as much as life working for the law had a way of imprinting on his memory not even he could remember every case he’d worked. Nothing of it seemed even the slightest bit familiar though so he quickly pushed that unsettling thought out of his mind. Instead he merely shrugged and resisted the urge to just glance down at the file and read the name signed at the bottom.

“Your friend,” Toru said, and with the way his voice sounded sly and almost condescending Atsushi easily guessed that the cop was no friend of his despite what Toru said. “None other than the previous Superintendent of this very precinct. The file was turned over to him to investigate the coroner’s findings. I guess it just never happened.”

Atsushi slumped in his chair, his hand automatically moving to the bridge of his nose. He pinched the skin and cartilage there hard, feeling the throbbing in his head grow worse before slowly subsiding. “Well,” Atsushi said with a sigh, “that, I guess, is to be expected.” Beside him Toru flinched at the bite in Atsushi’s tone though Atsushi hardly cared. He didn’t want to hear any more about the stations biggest disgrace and his blunders. It really wasn’t on the top of Atsushi’s list of things to do in his free time.

Making up for all those errors was, however, and he was more than ready to get this hacker into the station and find out what he knew about the hitman who were currently ruining Atsushi’s city.

“All right,” again Atsushi sighed, this time as he pushed himself to his feet and closed the file in front of him. Vaguely his mind told him he was getting too old for this but he promptly told it that it was wrong and then went about ignoring the pain in his joints. “We know who this guy is now, so let’s get on it.” Toru nodded and followed Atsushi to the door, picking up Shiroyama’s file as he went. “I want his details run through the transportation system. I want it so this guy can’t even buy a train ticket without being noticed by ten people. We’ll narrow in on him that way.

“Also, let’s leak it to the-” Atsushi’s sentence came to an end as his phone rang. Pausing for only a moment – long enough to pull the phone from his pocket – he received the call and pressed it to his ear, continuing on into the deserted office. “Hello?”

“A mutual friend sends his regards,” a voice said. Slightly raspy and deep, Atsushi couldn’t quite place the voice. It sounded altered and yet not at all mechanical. More like the person was trying to disguise themselves. Hearing it, Atsushi raised his hand in the air, a frown working its way between his eyebrows as he called Toru to a halt. Toru’s eyes narrowed as he looked over with a hundred unasked questions.

“And who would this mutual friend be?” Atsushi asked. Nervous habit saw him start pacing around the room, his shoulders tense and his back rigid and straight. In all his years as a cop he long reached that point where he was sure nothing else could faze him. It was like a point of no return, where he was absolutely positive that he had seen, said and done it all.

And then there was this crazy little curve ball thrown in from the crowd that left him knowing – just _knowing_ \- that things could always get stranger. This was one of them.

The voice on the other end chuckled slightly, deep yet restrained and Atsushi knew that there was nothing amusing about any of it. “Not the person you would think,” the stranger said. Not that that was overly helpful. There were shit loads of people that Atsushi could think about – or not think of as the case may be. Yakuza, drug lords, informants, spies and even the few civilians that tried to make a difference by actually helping the police when they could. Undercover cops, crocked cops and Atsushi was officially thinking of everyone he’d ever met.

Feeling the bubbling signs of irritation start to boil up inside of him, Atsushi continued his pacing anew. His eyes locked onto Toru’s in such a way that Atsushi was almost sure he could just suck the knowledge out of the younger man. For his part Toru took it and maintained eye contact, the right corner of his bottom lip held so tightly between his teeth that the pink skin was starting to whiten.

Atsushi wanted to rant, wanted to demand that the speaker stop talking in riddles and just come out with whatever he knew. There was nothing that he wanted more than to pull the phone away from his ear, hold it in front of his mouth and just scream. Scream for all he was worth into the other person’s ear. Even so, the detective in him knew a hell of a lot better. This was the mysterious voices’ game, not his, and so Atsushi had to play by the rules set for him else the conversation would be over and Atsushi would be left with nothing.

For that respect he held off on his questions, biting his tongue and increasing his pacing parameter.

“Pacing isn’t a good way to set an example,” and Atsushi stopped dead in his tracks. Pushing the phone closer to his ear, Atsushi resisted the urge to look around for the source of the phone call. “That’s better. Calm is the key to success, Detective Sakurai.” And fucked if Atsushi’s hadn’t heard that saying somewhere before. His mind raced frantically, grabbing at memories and recollections and plucking them out of the depths of his mind.

Nothing.

He could almost hear the words being said in his memories, the deep, rumbling drawl of the speaker. The strangely calm eyes, the distant expression; but that was where the memory ended. After that there was nothing, just those words rattling around and around in his head like rocks in a dryer.

Throwing caution to the wind, Atsushi breathed out a sigh, loud and strong enough that it would be heard clearly over the phone. “What do you want?”

There was a long pause. A silence that caused Atsushi’s heart to beat faster and faster. He could hear his own pulse throbbing in his head, beating a frantic rhythm against the phone pressed to his ear. As the silence stretched Atsushi tried to think of ways he could backpedal. Obviously the speaker wasn’t happy with Atsushi taking the lead in the conversation but fucked if Atsushi could think of the right thing to cover up his blunder.

And then, like the breaking of the tide against a cliff of rocks, the stranger’s voice filled his head again.

“Your little yakuza brat and his buddy,” the voice drawled out and Atsushi flagged Toru over. “Makin’ a stand tonight.” With his hand in the air, Atsushi made an over exaggerated writing motion, calling for pen and paper. Toru seemed to get the hint pretty quickly and nodded, scooting over to a desk in a way that made his polished shoes slide against the floor. He was back in a matter of seconds, a notebook braced on his forearm and a pen in his other hand.

“No need for that,” the voice continued. “It is easy enough to remember. They haven’t gone far after all.” There was a chuckle, dry and so obviously distorted that Atsushi couldn’t tell if the man had a cough or was just faking it for appearances sake. “Right under your nose all along. Look for them in the open, in the noise and in a place you and the brat have in common.”

It didn’t take long for Atsushi’s mind to click. It wasn’t much of a riddle but the stranger was right. Now that he knew that Ruki was about to fight back everything became a lot clearer.

The bar.

What little Atsushi did know about the yakuza kid was that he was not one to directly attack – Ruki was a fan of the running and hiding aspect as his current lifestyle suggested. It made sense that with his hand thus forced, Ruki would choose somewhere he knew, somewhere central and a place where he would have the upper hand.

“Who should I thank?” It was a long shot but at the moment Atsushi was willing to try anything.

Again the voice merely laughed, the only difference to the first time being that this laugh sounded almost genuine. “I told you; a mutual friend.” Atsushi nodded, knowing that the person would see the action no matter how creepy a notion that was.

The silence that followed suggested that it was all over. Had circumstances been different Atsushi would have thanked the man but it would no doubt be a lost action anyway. Besides, as helpful as the information was, Atsushi didn’t take much of a liking to knowing that he was being watched and or followed. No cop appreciated that, especially not one like Atsushi. Things were already too tense and serious without him needing to worry about having a tail everywhere he went.

Thus resigned, Atsushi pulled the phone away from his ear and moved his thumb to the red button that would end the call.

“One more thing.” Atsushi’s finger paused on the disconnect button at the yelled out response. Frowning, Atsushi returned the phone to his ear but didn’t say a thing. The person could see him anyway so words were somewhat redundant. “Watch your back. It’s more exposed than you know.”

With that the familiar beeps of the line being disconnected sounded in Atsushi’s ear.

For a moment he simply took the time to pause and think before actually turning off the phone. The last words were still ringing in his ears, speaking volumes and yet not giving him any solid hints either. It was entirely plausible that the caller was just trying to mess with his head; that they were less friendly then they appeared and were simply trying to rattle Atsushi. But that nagging little voice hidden away behind all his practicality and need for facts told him not to completely disregard it.

“What’s going on?” Toru asked. He was still holding out the pen and paper, the pen clicked and facing Atsushi. All the detective had to do was grab it and start scribbling down the information but obviously Atsushi had long hung up, leaving Toru mystified.

Looking at his young partner, Atsushi schooled his features to remain impassive. He went so far as to offer the other a tiny, grimacing trace of a smile and a positive lift of the chin. “I know where they are.”

Toru’s face broke into a smile, genuine and clearly pleased and all Atsushi heard was the ghosting whispers of that stranger's words.

*****

**Chapter Eighteen preview:**

  
  
It was just a split second in time, a moment where the world seemed to blur, dip, warp and then right itself again and within that torrent of distorted reality there was a bang. Loud and true, it reverberated around the room, the acoustics designed specially to heighten the atmosphere for those dinning added an echoing ring to the original sound. A chorus of screams followed and then the crash of smashing china, glass and wood scraping against tiled floors was all that could be heard as Aoi felt something wet and warm splash across his face and torso.   
  


*****


	20. Chapter Eighteen - The art of misdirection

**Chapter Eighteen**

The art of misdirection

  
*****

  
  
There was no doubt about it. Aoi was an idiot. Clean and simple, straight and fucking defined. Idiot, stupid, moron, village fool or any number of colourfully insulting terms.  
  
The sound of the bike slowly faded from his hearing and Aoi, standing in that little street, didn’t know what he felt.  
  
Part of him was relived that he had gotten Ruki out of there, safe and in one piece and yet the other part was freaking the fuck out. There was a reason that Ruki had been the one to initially lead the assassins and that was because when it came to street smarts, he was like a genius while Aoi was mentally challenged. Ruki was top of the class with the little gold star pinned to his blazer while Aoi was lying on the floor with thick glasses and permanently crossed eyes and drool puddling around him. It wasn’t a pretty mental picture but that was exactly how Aoi felt at the moment.  
  
Yet here he was, dashing in to save the fucking day and god knew that the last time he tried that it didn’t work so well.  
  
Not to mention that he was starting to wonder if his debt would ever be repaid. Then again, did Aoi want it to be? There was that cynical little voice in his mind that told him that having said debt made everything easier. He could hide his actions behind that. He wasn’t helping Ruki because he wanted to; he was doing it because he was making amends. He was saving Ruki’s life because Aoi himself had put the smaller man in danger and not because he wanted to keep the little guy alive and close.  
  
It was such a stupid lie but then that was the power of such things. The more outlandish and ridiculous the lie, the easier it was to repeat and eventually believe.  
  
So yes, the only reason he came to get Ruki was because he felt that he owed the Yakuza brat.  
  
Even Aoi was somewhat impressed with his grand entrance. It had been years since he had tried to pull a stunt like that and for a moment he actually thought that he had fucked it. That he had thrown the bike too far and that he would crash and burn and make a fucking fool of himself while dying. Thankfully that obviously didn’t happen and after all that, the look on Ruki’s face made the effort so worth it. Aoi had almost been tempted to reach out, grab Ruki’s chin and forcefully close the little man’s mouth, just to prove his point, of course.  
  
He had resisted the urge to say something corny like, “come with me if you want to live,” even though he was sure that someone, one day would use that in a movie. It was too good a line to pass up, too perfectly scripted and over-the-top that he was almost sure that he’d be in the last of his years and seeing that on a screen somewhere.  
  
Provided he lived through tonight, that was.  
  
But then the night was proving to be full of surprises. In all honestly, he hadn’t expected much of a fight from Ruki. Not like what he had got. Aoi had honestly thought that Ruki would pretty much push him off the bike, take off and leave him there. Not protest and ask legitimate questions let alone offer up his weapons.  
  
It was highly unnatural of the small man and on some strange level Aoi chose to think that maybe he was starting to get through to him. Although, picking the little guy up probably wasn’t such a good idea but with the way things were going, it wasn’t like Ruki would have the chance to yell at him about it. Well, he could always yell at Aoi’s bullet ridden corpse but at least Aoi wouldn’t have to hear it.  
  
And that was definitely the morbid thought for the day.  
  
Thankfully the assassins managed to drag him from the hideous mental image of Ruki shaking and kicking his lifeless body while yelling things like, “fuckyauselamordon,” or however the hell it was that Ruki managed to make words sound totally unlike words. Running feet and the loud bang of a gun and Aoi knew he should be moving else his inner monologue would soon come into being.  
  
Shadowed and backlight in the smoky haze, Aoi could see the two of them standing at the mouth of the lane. They stood alike, shoulders square and heads held high. Even the relative darkness Aoi could see the glint of guns in their hands and the bulk of their shadows hinted at far more than just the visible weapon.  
  
Aoi swallowed hard and started backing up a bit.  
  
The assassins looked at each other and Aoi swore that they were like bats. Maybe even dolphins but that analogy brought him far to close to the fish species which made him wholly uncomfortable. His point was that they seemed to communicate without so much as a word or a hand gesture. Hive minds and suddenly all the sci-fi movies he had watched over the years came back to haunt him.  
  
Downright fucking creepy and then, as he watched, they split up. Aoi’s heart sunk. One of them was going after Ruki. Aoi turned and bolted down the road, heading off on a tangent to the way that Ruki had driven. He made sure that he caused a hell of a lot of noise as he went as well, thankful that the bike’s motor had finally died down.  
  
There wasn’t much that he could do about it now, not with this lunatic on his tail. Ruki would have to look after himself or at least drive faster than thirty kilometres and hour in order to leave the assassin behind.  
  
Besides, Aoi had his own problems, the main one being not knowing where the fuck he was. He turned a corner to the right, entering into a large, open street that he instantly didn’t like. Each step he took he could almost feel a bullet ripping into his back, stopping him dead in his tracks. He was far too much of an open target out here and so when a side alley appeared off to his left, he quickly ducked into it and almost brained himself on an air-conditioning vent.  
  
Skirting around it he used his hands to bounce off the opposite wall as he dodged and jumped over the scattered rubbish. It looked like it had once lined the walls, but as time past and the city decayed even more the clutter had marched out to claim the whole passageway, creating a sea of uneven, dirty foot traps that Aoi had to constantly keep his eyes on. Off to the side he could hear the scurrying of rats and god only knew what else as they scrambled to be away from what they would have seen as a giant intruder. Aoi nibbled at his lipring and kept going, ignoring the noises while concentrating on the fact that at least there weren’t any fish here.  
  
When the shitty dive of a road came to an end, Aoi turned a sharp left and then a right and almost screamed in frustration.  
  
A wall.  
  
_Shit!_  
  
Had it not sounded so downright stupid, Aoi would have cursed and raved out loud right then and there. Of all the streets to take, of all the little back alleyways and dingy lanes that snaked around this neighbourhood, he had to have picked this one.  
  
Something about it seemed just poetic in a really dumb sort of way, like finally after all this running and success, his luck was about to come to a flesh ripping end in some dark little hole in a crummy fucking city.  
  
Poetic.  
  
The sound of running footsteps were closing in, echoing off the slanting walls as the assassin came closer. Time was ticking. With each downward trod of the gunman’s leather boot, Aoi was getting closer and closer to his death and there wasn’t a damn thing that his mind was doing to prevent it.  
  
Elevator music. That was what he had going on up there. This soft, melodic humming occasionally accentuated with the sing-song words ‘fuck,’ and ‘oh shit.’ ‘You’re screwed,’ also come into play quite a bit and as he stood there, his eyes huge and searching, he managed to get quite the rhythm going. Maybe he had missed his calling in life; he’d always been interested in music and then and there he made the decision to follow that feeling through. Maybe he’d buy a guitar.  
  
Although getting splattered against a brick wall by a clip full of bullets would sure as hell put a stop to that.  
  
All it took was that one little thought and Aoi panicked. Reality slammed down on him with all the weight of a tonne of bricks and suddenly his mind wasn’t even able to focus on the extreme digressions that it was used to. He felt it build up inside of him, bubbling and heating and steadily rising until he was sure that he was about to scream or burst or spontaneously combust. It was a like a wave crashing against the shore, only his figurative shore was his self control and his ability to reign in his emotions. Shattered. Washed away like sand formed into a castle and Aoi was totally at a loss as to what to do and for once he actually knew it. Felt it.  
  
Aoi lost it, his feet leading him literally in circles as he tried to find a way out of the alleyway. He felt like one of those test mice, thrown into a maze and told there was cheese somewhere. It was like he could smell it, sense it just out of his view and yet fucked it he could find his way to the damn cheese; or well, safety as his predicament suggested.  
  
There was no way up the buildings, no handy fire escapes or hidden doors like in the movies. And there sure as hell wasn’t any way around them. The only things that Aoi could see was an abandoned table to the right and a dirty, stained and rather overflowing dumpster off to the left. All in all though, he rather liked to think that his dumpster hiding days were over. At least for now. Plus, it wasn’t such a great hiding spot anymore and it wouldn’t take a genius to lift the lid and look for him since it was the only cover offered in the pathetic excuse for a street.  
  
Then his eyes locked onto it. A window. High up in the wall but still attainable. It would be a hard one to reach considering Aoi wasn’t like some action movie hero who could scale walls or had jet thrusters attached to the back of his shoes. But he had faith in his own strength; all he’d need was a hand hold and he could make it.  
  
Provided the glass wasn’t in the way.  
  
There was no other thought that entered Aoi’s mind and his flicked his jacket back, unclipped the holster cover and pulled out one of the two guns he had. Autopilot kicked in and he pushed the safety off, racked back the slide and heard that click of a bullet slipping into the chamber. Just like he had done at Uruha’s house under Ruki’s instruction. Easy as pie.  
  
Now all that remained was actually being able to shoot the damn thing.  
  
It was strange how such a small object could have such a profound difference to his being. He felt both powerful and yet weak and stressed with the gun in his hands. Like he was able to take control of his future with just this object of fashioned metal and yet fucked if he knew what to do with his life now that he could.  
  
“Aim small, miss small.” He’d heard that in a movie somewhere and had always wondered about its meaning. It was quite ambiguous really but he thought he understood the concept well enough to have those few words chanting through his head as he aimed the gun at the window.  
  
The shot felt like it had snapped his arm in two. Nothing could have prepared him for that, not even Ruki’s little demonstration at the weapon dealers place. It had jolted his limb, raking it against his shoulder and straining the bone in the joint. He wondered how all those guys in the movies did it.  
  
Not to mention that the bullet went completely askew. So much so that even Aoi had no fucking clue what had gone wrong. There was no shattering glass, no opened hole for him to try and get to. Hell, the only thing that happened was that the front table legs gave way and the damn thing collapsed into a rather strange slope.  
  
It was a window. A large, flat panel of easily breakable glass embedded into the crumbling brickwork of the building. Had Ruki been there Aoi just knew that his actions would have gotten him a slap to the head and a verbal beating to go with it. The question, “How the fuck did you fucking miss that, you fuck?” came to mind though Aoi was sure that Ruki would be able to substitute ‘fuck’ with a whole bunch of other more colourful words that Aoi’s mind was ill-equipped to supply.  
  
And maybe it was thinking of Ruki, or trying to work out what would go through the smaller man’s mind in such a situation, but Aoi suddenly had an idea. Stupid, scatterbrained and fucking brilliant.  
  
But first. First he had to get around the damn assassin and he was sure that was easier imagined than done. The gunman was already at the mouth of the alleyway, his gun in hand and Aoi could just picture the smirk on the others face. Cornered, trapped; easy prey.  
  
Thankfully though, with these sorts of people, they liked to play with those they deemed pathetic. The assassin wasn’t about to shoot. He wanted the kill to be personal, to be a triumph and a demonstration of his superiority and Aoi used that to his advantage.  
  
Aoi thanked all those afternoons spent at the gym as he dashed forward. The assassin reached out for him, trying to block his path by chopping at Aoi’s neck, but the hacker easily ducked and dodged the blow. Easy to do when you were up to something so stupid that no one would think to suspect it. It didn’t take long to cover the ground between his previous position and the table and with one lucky-as-all-hell jump, his feet landed on the lowest edge of the desk and thankfully, the damn thing didn’t fall over or collapse.  
  
The table was unsteady, rocking with each step but it only took him three large strides to scale the sixty degree slope. It wasn’t until half way up that the idea of what laid behind the window even crossed his mind but by then it was far too late to back down. His boots slipped and skidded as he went but his sheer determination to not get shot in the fucking back helped him make it. One last, giant step saw him leaping in the direction of the window and whatever the hell lay concealed behind it.  
  
He brought his arms up around his face and at the very last moment, Aoi closed his eyes and simply hoped for the best.  
  
The glass shattered around him, sending a chorus of tinkling and cracking out into the night. It only lasted a moment, a tiny little second wherein he was at first on one side and then landing painfully on the other, but the way that the glass fell seemed to take forever. Pellets the size of water drops rained down around him as his feet hit the floor. Aoi automatically bent his knees, taking some of the pressure off his rather awkward landing and somehow the jarring of his back and neck felt less like pain as his body was once again showered with jagged, shattered glass.  
  
Inwardly he made a mental note to try and keep away from glass in the future. Glass and fish and maybe Aoi would just go and hand himself over to a loony bin and live in a comfortable padded room.  
  
None of that, however, mattered. At least not at the moment and not until he managed to get out of all this shit alive. Then and only then could he start thinking about the comforts and benefits of being a ward of the state and to be able to get to that thought process he needed to first think his way out of this.  
  
Straightening himself up, Aoi quickly dusted the glass from his clothes, glanced around him long enough to see a door before bolting towards it. Even he knew that it wouldn’t take the assassin long to jump in after him and Aoi somewhat fancied being away from closed in spaces when that happened.  
  
By the shelves and crates that he passed as he made his way to the door, Aoi guessed that it was someone’s pantry. A huge fucking pantry but a pantry none the less and one that made his stomach rumble.  
  
Ripping the door open, Aoi stumbled out and flinched. The first thought he had was that he was walking onto a movie set, all harsh lights, noise and spot lamps and he instantly turned his face towards his shoulder even as he slammed the door closed behind him. After the dark of the alleyway it was a shock to the system, burning his eyes and blinding him with white spots.  
  
Ignoring it, Aoi stumbled forward, his hands reaching out blindly in front of him, searching for anything he could use as a guide. His fingertips brushed something cold and smooth, hard like steel and so he followed that, his eyes still squeezed tightly closed as he went. The strange surface under him continued on before reaching a sharp corner where Aoi crashed into what felt like a number of shelves. There was a loud roar, painful in a way that sounded like nails on a chalk board and Aoi was sure that the whole world was falling down around him.  
  
Forcing his eyes open into a squint, Aoi took a step backwards away from the steel grate shelves, surveyed the mess on the floor and inwardly sighed. He should have seen it coming and he gave himself a mental kick in the ass for being such a blind moron.  
  
There was always a restaurant. As soon as you had to run from someone with the ability to kill you with their pinkie finger, you would always end up in a crowded, hard to manoeuvre place that was just utterly filled with sharp, pointy objects. At least that was the way the movies always showed it and for whatever shitty as all fuck reason, said movies decided to get something like this right.  
  
Really, Aoi was getting sick of this. Expect the unexpected, do the expected and find the expected expecting you and god, it all just sucked.  
  
Aoi cursed the movies in his head. Cursed them for all that they were worth and made a silent vow that if he made it out of here he would never watch another film again. Ever.  
  
Obviously news of Ruki’s little escapade a few blocks down hadn’t reached this place yet. That or it had and the people just didn’t care. It was always hard to tell in his sort of area. Panic or calm reason, to flee or to just brush off an exploding building as something of the norm.  
  
Although it did show one thing about chefs. They were all utterly fucking oblivious and married to the job. It took at least twenty seconds of him tearing through the place before any of them even released that anything was wrong here. Aoi honestly thought that a customer could walk into the damn kitchen and grab their own meal and the cooks probably wouldn’t care, or notice.  
  
Needless to say that it took one waitress walking in through the large metal doors to actually sound the alarm. Fucking shrill thing that it was too. With just one glance, the woman dropped the plates she was carrying, opened her mouth and let out the most painful wailing scream Aoi had ever heard. Her hands pressed to her cheeks, her mouth fell open and Aoi just grimaced at the hideous sound that filled the cluttered kitchen.  
  
No matter how ridiculously uncalled for, the thought of never wanting to date a woman like that filled Aoi’s head. It was however, quickly replaced with the mental image of Ruki belittling him and Aoi felt himself inwardly sigh.  
  
While the woman was loud and shrill, she posed little to no resistance as Aoi grabbed her by the shoulders and none too kindly relocated her out of his way. At least that made her shut the hell up and as Aoi dodged the shattered plates she had just dropped, he felt the woman lock her eyes onto his back and just stare.  
  
Fucking creepy, crazy bitch.  
  
Bursting through the doors, Aoi tried not to obey the want to skid to a stop. It seemed the entire city was in this one dive of a restaurant and all those people, all those eyes were all locked onto him. It was like being watched by one entity with a hundred different pairs of googly eyes and Aoi instantly thought of fish. Not that fish really had multiple eyes but they sure as hell had googly ones, especially when they were sprayed out over a tiled floor in centimetre deep water and slowly suffocating to death.  
  
No, it really didn’t paint a pretty picture and for once Aoi was glad that he was yet to sleep. He was sure that such apparent peaceful rest would bring with it flashes of mass fish genocide and vengeful killer trout with MP-5K’s and hunting knives.  
  
Aoi shivered as he forced his feet to keep moving. Somewhere behind him he could hear a roar of commotion and for all his previous shortcomings, Aoi knew – just knew – that it was the sound of fear as someone ran past with a gun. The assassin was catching up and here Aoi was thinking about fish and people who acted like fish.  
  
Stupid really.  
  
Immediately to the right of the doors was the entrance to the bar. Long and high, it would have been something to admire had it been in a different part of town. Instead what must have once been grand had been neglected and showed the visible signs of aging. Scuff marks on the lower area, dents in the carved metal foot rail, scratches on the top surface and a hardly stocked backbar were all just little testimonies of its lack of charm.  
  
Not that any of that was actually important given Aoi’s current situation but he noticed it anyway. Most likely his obsessive need to find something else to focus on other than the danger at hand. But really, the only relevance the bar currently held to the situation was a simple choice; run around the bar and into the restaurant proper, or go through the bar and try to vault it at the end.  
  
It all happened in a split second, a tiny fragment of time wherein Aoi took in all the little details, weighted up the choice and made the decision to skirt around the bar and weave through the tables.  
  
Each had had their own list of pros and cons, and maybe it was conscious decision of a self preserving mind, but for whatever reason Aoi thought it would be best to take his luck with the restaurant. The bar was undoubtedly the quicker route to the door – with the door standing directly at the end – while this way he would have to weave his way through tables and diners alike, but surely the longer way was easier. Less chance of slipping, no need to try and calculate how to vault the bar at the end and, should the assassin come out of the door of the kitchen, then Aoi would be a harder target to aim at.  
  
His mind told him that that was a damn good display of thinking on his feet and that perhaps he was getting somewhere even as he dodged a chair and almost collided with one of the waitstaff. His feet moved faster than he ever thought humanly possible and for all his movie freaked thoughts, Aoi was sure that the world actually blurred as he moved; some hi-tech motion effect.  
  
People seemed to keep out of his way, looks of terror and disbelief plastered on their faces as he tore past. He could feel the panic in the room, thick and heavy and it seemed to weigh people down that much that no one was game to move. In a way it made Aoi feel almost better. No one was running, hardly any were screaming; for the most part they just seemed frozen in their own fear and for all its creepiness, it made his initial reaction to getting shot at seem so much better. He hadn’t frozen and let himself been hit. It may not have been the best of ways to deal with the situation but at least he had actually done something. At least he had moved.  
  
All his little self congratulating thoughts came to a painful end however when a chorus of screams took up around the restaurant and fucked if Aoi couldn’t _feel_ him. The assassin had escaped the confusion of the kitchen and was right behind him, on his tail like a fucking bloodhound.  
  
Aoi could feel the other man, the way his mere presence struck fear into those around him. He could hear the assassin’s breathing; feel the pulsing of his heart reverberating through the fear filled air. The slapping of his boots against the floor, the heat of his breath defying logic and stretching meters to flush Aoi’s skin.  
  
And then just like that, the assassin was there and Aoi could only guess that he must have blinked and missed a vital moment of his life.  
  
Aoi stopped dead in his tracks as the circular barrel of the gun pressed to his forehead. Cold and hard, it pulled both his feet and his mind to a complete and utter stop. There wasn’t even elevator music this time. Just a deep, dark and blank sense of nothingness that was all consuming.  
  
How the assassin had managed to skirt around him was a mystery. Maybe he had launched himself over the bar as Aoi had been thinking of doing, or maybe he was just faster on his feet. Oddly, superpowers and the ability to teleport never once occurred to Aoi’s mind, though there was the briefest thought relating to fish though it thankfully went unfinished.  
  
Either way, it was completely of no consequence and all that mattered was that Aoi was now fucked. Well and truly fucked.  
  
For a moment he considered dashing to the side, or trying to back step, but the realist in him said that the assassin was probably expecting that. Not to mention that the killer could no doubt pull a trigger a hell of a lot faster than Aoi could run. Reaching for a weapon of his own was also out of the question. Again, the assassin would no doubt shoot before Aoi’s hand even reached the closest of the firearms and if through some unforseen miracle Aoi was able to get a gun in hand, what then? He had already proven to the world – and himself – that his shooting was pretty damn shitty.  
  
This left him, as first thought, utterly fucked and completely at a loss as what to do.  
  
It wasn’t like some miracle of the world instantly making sense, or a matter of one of those life and death situations when all his memories flashed through his mind. He was well and truly beyond all of that now; the last few days had been that strange reminiscent movie just in short, chopped up bits. But instead it was something else.  
  
Aoi suddenly had the feeling that there was too much left to be done, too many things that he wanted to do in life and hadn’t as yet. Fuck what he had done, fuck what he had experienced and what he remembered. None of that was important or relevant. The only thing in his mind was that he wanted a future. A chance to right all his wrongs, and not just those from the last few days, or those that had hurt the people around him.  
  
He wanted to amend all the little things that he had done to himself, the ways he had cheated himself out of a life. The fact that he had spent years rotting in a basement trapped in an unhealthy relationship just to try and overcome his own conflicting emotions. Aoi wanted to make peace with his past, with the things he was running from and constantly denying. He wanted to help Wataru find Yuusuke; to thank the PI for all that he had done in keeping Aoi alive this far. He wanted to go to an aquarium and face his fish fear, apologise and offer some random little creature some food and prove to himself that his mind was overreacting about the entire thing.  
  
As stupid and spoilt as it sounded, Aoi just wanted to live. For once in his life, well and truly live and enjoy it. Go for coffee with Uruha – in an open, public and non-molest-able place – take Ruki somewhere fun and stupid and full of people who wouldn’t recognise the little man. Show him that there was more to life than running and hiding and shooting and killing even if Aoi wasn’t an expert on it himself.  
  
He couldn’t die here, now and in his bizarre emotionally deprived restaurant. Ruki was waiting for him, counting on him; putting trust in him to do this one thing. If Aoi died here then he’d be leaving Ruki high and dry and as resilient as the little guy was, Aoi didn’t like his chances of getting out of all this on his own. This was their one chance, their one desperate option to try and lose these madmen and save what little they had left of their lives. Aoi couldn’t fuck this up. Ruki would never forgive him, never talk to him – and Aoi was looking at this in a large, after life and in death scale as well – and sure as hell would never give Aoi the smallest of chances to try and get closer.  
  
And God strike him down and Satan then fuck him sideways, but Aoi couldn’t even work out when Ruki had managed to fit into his wishful future dreams. But he was there. A little pissed off, swearing beacon that Aoi wasn’t ready to let go of just yet. And that and that alone was reason for Aoi to find a way to get the hell out of here.  
  
His mind kicked into overdrive as he stood there, perfectly still and with the assassin’s gun pressed between his eyes. The gunman looked at him, his exposed eyes dark and emotionless and completely unreadable. It was like looking a wild animal in the eyes. The hate, the determination and damn, just the sheer madness in those eyes was almost overwhelming. Even here in the dim light it was clear to see that the man wasn’t all there. Something was wrong in the assassin’s brain, something that made it impossible to set him apart from an animal of prey infected with rabies.  
  
Nothing about the assassins eyes were normal and again Aoi found himself picturing other hypnotic gazes. Yuusuke with his harsh truth reflected so naturally, Miyavi with his predatory undertones that were almost hidden. And then Ruki. Ruki with his deep, mysterious eyes and the way that they managed to speak volumes without saying a single thing at all.  
  
Aoi found it so strange that such a thing as eyes could say so much about someone and at the moment, the assassin’s eyes were telling Aoi that his time was up.  
  
For a moment Aoi thought the man was about to pull the trigger, right then and there and in the back of Aoi’s mind, that annoying little voice wanted to know what happened to the ‘I’m evil’ speech. It always happened like that in movies. When the good guy was cornered and facing certain death than the evil dude would give that speech, proclaiming how good he was and how everything had been the perfect trap. Normally that allowed for the hero to escape and yet, looking at the assassin, Aoi knew that he wasn’t going to be given that handy little moment of chitchat.  
  
It could have been fate, it could have been luck or the power of thought or fuck, it could have been some deep wound conspiracy revolving around fish and higher powers for all Aoi knew, but before that trigger could be pulled, Aoi was offered his window of opportunity in the form of a flying plate.  
  
Surreal didn’t even seem to quite cover it. One minute he was standing there, staring the assassin down and thinking of all that he could have done with his life, and then the next there was a white china plate. It flew in out of nowhere, just off to the side of Aoi’s vision, and left a trail of steamed fish and vegetables in its wake. Like a flying saucer of hope and opportunity, it smashed into the side of the assassins head, splattering sauce and china everywhere.  
  
Aoi didn’t even think to duck; he just did, moving his head out of the way of the gun in case the assassin’s automatic reaction was to squeeze the trigger. As he bent his knees, Aoi turned his head to the side, catching sight of an older man, dressed in a suit who was standing at his table without a plate.  
  
The man seemed like such a normal person, his hair starting to grey, his suit well cut but obviously cheap. He sat with a lady of the same age who had gone ghastly pale and had her hand pressed over her mouth. The average, run-of-the-mill salary man out for a dinner with his wife in one of the few places he could afford to buy a nice bottle of wine. Maybe they were celebrating something, toasting to a promotion that would allow their next outing to be somewhere more lively, somewhere out of this shitty side of town and where the bar didn’t look like it was rotting away as they drank. Or maybe it was just a monthly thing, a promise between loved ones to spend at least one night a month away from home, from work and the two point five children.  
  
This man wasn’t a hero; he wasn’t that dashing figure that the movies always depicted. A tax hero maybe or a hero when it came to selling real-estate, but that was it. Normal. Plain. Everyday. And looking at him, Aoi couldn’t – not for the life of him – work out why the man had done that.  
  
Heroics aside, what had made him decide that Aoi was the one to be helped? How could anyone make that conscious decision in such a quick, short amount of time? Was it because Aoi didn’t have a gun in hand? Because he was the one running from the other man? But what was to stop the situation from offering a blind sided twist? What guarantee did that one man have that Aoi wasn’t in fact the evil guy running from someone after committing a great act of wrong?  
  
Not that he was complaining, or looking a gift horse in the mouth, but none of it made sense to Aoi’s mind. Where was this man at the train station, when wounded and terrified, Ruki had had to run through the panicked crowds with only Aoi to help him? Perhaps movies did have it right, there were hero’s everywhere, all around but they only shone in certain moments, or they didn’t even realise that they would or could save someone’s life until the moment called for it.  
  
Had that man’s simple purpose in life, in fate, been to eat at this restaurant this very night, at this very time simply to save Aoi?  
  
The smashing of the already broken fragments of china yanked Aoi’s thoughts back to the present. As much as the workings of the world mystified him, now was hardly the time to be contemplating them with such depth. Plus, they had a way of making Aoi nervous as all hell.  
  
The assassin was doubled over, his right fist held to his temple even though he still tightly gripped the gun. The crowd seemed to have taken a huge step back, like a living, breathing entity throbbing with life and determined to get away from danger.  
  
It was surreal. Even more so when the man who had thrown the plate shouted out, “Run!” the words aimed at him, and Aoi found himself rooted to the spot. His mind was screaming at him, yelling with all its might and telling him to take the opportunity for what it was and book it out of there. But for all its yelling and ranting, his brain wasn’t really offering much help in the way of limb co-ordination and while Aoi wanted to be running, his feet and legs seemed to be quite happy where they were.  
  
All he had was one tiny little window of opportunity and with each microsecond that he stood there, it slowly but surely wasted away. Then, just like that, his chance was gone and a good plate had been smashed for nothing.  
  
The assassin recovered quickly – too quickly – but instead of launching at Aoi, the hacker watched as the man rounded on the diner.  
  
It was just a split second in time, a moment where the world seemed to blur, dip, warp and then right itself again and within that torrent of distorted reality there was a bang. Loud and true, it reverberated around the room, the acoustics designed specially to heighten the atmosphere for those dinning added an echoing ring to the original sound. A chorus of screams followed and then the crash of smashing china, glass and wood scraping against tiled floors was all that could be heard as Aoi felt something wet and warm splash across his face and torso.  
  
Aoi flinched and his eyes closed involuntarily. Yet somehow he was still able to see the man fall, see that shocked, pained look cross those unknown features as the bullet tore through flesh and bone alike. A choking noise filled the room, a sickly gurgle and Aoi knew – more than he had known anything else in his entire life – that he was the one making that pathetic sound. A scream, a wailed name and an overturned chair and Aoi could picture the horrified wife throwing herself on the floor, her pale, slightly wrinkled hands seeking the wound.  
  
The stranger had fallen, the wife was left a widow, but Aoi was sure that he was the one who died. Right there on the floor and in the middle of the busy restaurant, he was drowning in a sea of his own thoughts, memories and shattered ideals. The last few moments ceased to exist, his theories and hopes had vanished and for all he cared, he may as well have been nothing more than a living, breathing shell.  
  
He felt his stomach twist and churn and yet nothing else seemed to happen. He didn’t think or feel ill, nor did he feel enough to think of anything other than nothing. And as stupid as that all sounded, it was exactly how it was. Like he was thinking of everything and anything in the world all at once and with such speed that each idea cancelled out its predecessor so that there was actually nothing in his mind at all.  
  
True fucking enlightenment.  
  
So that was what happened to heroes in the real world. There was none of this golden edged glory, none of those actions that shone and gleamed and would be forever remembered by all those that witnessed. Well, no, he would be remembered, but as a fool who got in the way. As ‘that man who died’ in that random shooting.  
  
That was it. No drinks at the pub afterwards, no pats on the back or gorgeous women – or men, if that was his thing – pressing up against him and reciting the many ways and reasons for their admiration.  
  
Just death. Death and blood and pain and one hell of a mess to clean up afterwards.  
  
Aoi had no incentive to open his eyes. Not even the threat of the assassin standing right fucking _there_ was enough. Besides, he already knew what he would see; panic, desperation, pain, and fuck, blood everywhere. On the floor, soaking into the man’s clothes and covering his wife’s trembling hands. On Aoi. He could feel it, warm and thick and smelling of metal and copper.  
  
The assassin could have shot him down right then and there. One bullet and it all would have been over and Aoi wouldn’t have done a thing to stop it. His dreams and hopes of a future all but forgotten. One single fucking bang and it could all be over and Aoi would have stood there waiting and giving the man an open shot.  
  
But instead the assassin did the one thing that Aoi hadn’t expected. He spoke and fucked if they weren’t the words that Aoi actually needed to hear.  
  
“Real enough for you?” and Aoi didn’t need to be looking to know that it was the assassin’s voice. There was something about it, something alien and inhuman even though the man sounded like any other. Aoi wondered if it were merely a reflection of his perception of the man. Aoi knew that he was a hired killer, that he was capable and competent when it came to murdering people, so did that alter the way in which Aoi saw the man? Heard his voice? Did those standing around them, terror in their eyes, hear a completely different voice?  
  
Aoi’s eyes snapped back open and the world was a different place.  
  
The light was gone, the soft colouring and blurred edges had all be exchanged. Contrast had been added, his sight sharpened to the point where the gun in the assassins hand was almost white. The jewellery, the zipper of the hitman’s jacket, the corners of the surrounding tables; everything was harsher now, razor sharp and a testimony to the world that Aoi lived in. Actually lived in. Not the pleasant one that he had created for himself through an abundance of softened images and ideals. Not the place where the unlikely fool becomes the hero and gets the girl after much trials and tribulations. Not a place of movies and beautiful people doing heroic things.  
  
Life. Cold and hard and fucking unrelenting.  
  
Blood and death, weapons and survival instincts that told you to kill rather than be killed.  
  
And it was that dark little aspect of him that whispered those words. That showed him the realty that he had been denying all these years.  
  
As a child it had scared him, as an adult he had embraced it only once when standing in his father’s kitchen and staring the man down. But now he could feel that dark energy pumping through him and for once in his life it seemed right. Normal and needed as he regarded his surroundings without his rose coloured glasses.  
  
It was then that Aoi wondered; wondered about a whole world of things but none so prominent as when exactly he had started to see the world like the glossy pages of a magazine. As a child he had hated life, hated the nights he’d hear his mother crying as his father yelled and broke bottles and furniture alike. Seeing his mother finally put to rest and the tears in his fathers eyes had done nothing more then to numb his heart. To make his future actions easier.  
  
It had felt right to make that drink, to mix in that cocktail of stolen drugs and hand it to his father. And as the man drank more and more, feeling both the alcohol and the illicit substances in his veins, Aoi had felt that it was almost his purpose in life to out him out of his misery. An eye for an eye, a favour for a favour. His father had ended his mothers suffering and so it should only be right for Aoi to return the kindness.  
  
That pot had crashed down time and time again and for all Aoi’s normally hyperactive brain, he had felt nothing. Nothing but darkness and twisted control and a morbid sense of righteousness.  
  
That had been such great moment of clarity, of life and the world and what hardships you had to endure. And yet somewhere between then and now his mind had flipped a switch and he had apparently just chosen to ignore it. The world was a movie, life was a stage and Aoi and all the other ill educated masses were nothing but actors. Puppets for his mind to find amusement in.  
  
He may not be an expert with guns, he may not have killed more people than he could count on his fingers and hell, he may not have ever found himself in this sort of situation before, but that didn’t mean anything. Not now. Not when faced with an option like this.  
  
The strange thing was that is past didn’t even matter here. It was of no consequence that he had taken his own fathers life, no matter what the reasons for that were. The gangs he used to run with and the antics that they would undertake pretty much ceased to exist. All of those things were someone else, Shiroyama Yuu and by most accounts that man was dead. But then again, he was no longer Yūrei the hacker either.  
  
Maybe that was the catch. The kicker that he had seen coming from the moment he opened Ruki’s file and took the time to reflect on his life thus far. He had acknowledged an alien presence, a third party in his mind that was deeper and darker than all the others. Perhaps there was a reason for that after all.  
  
That third presence was actually him. The man he was meant to become. Not some timid hacker, or a rebellious kid getting himself into too much trouble. But actually him. Aoi. The reason he had that other name, the one that was neither his birth name nor his internet handle.  
  
It was deeper as it was the basis of his actions, darker as it was the aspect of him that could see the world for what it really was. It was what drove him to survive, to succeed and to fight back; to leave Miyavi and to make a stand.  
  
And for the first time in his life he was seeing through those eyes. Clearly and uninhibited.  
  
All too quickly he could see things from Ruki’s perspective. Kill or be killed. Attack or be attacked and what he had first thought as cold and wrong and evil now seemed the only option.  
  
Besides, he had a mission to complete and a snotty nosed little red head that Aoi actually wanted to take care of. And with that thought it became apparent that his new outlook on life allowed him to see a hell of a lot more than just survival. It seemed odd that hope came out of desperation, that joy and love came out of death and fear, but in a way, Aoi guessed that it was the only way that the world functioned.  
  
Although fuck the world. The world was overrated and in all honesty, at the moment it didn’t exist. The world now consisted of nothing more than Aoi and the assassin, the killer’s gun, the man lying on the floor and the restaurant. That was it. All just fear and blood, tables and chairs and before Aoi knew what he was doing, his hands were locked firmly around one of those few things that actually existed in his current reality scope.  
  
Aoi grabbed the chair by the backrest and drew it back, all the while feeling the motion and the weight and yet feeling nothing emotional attached to it. There was that moment of realization in the assassins eyes before Aoi swung and whether the gunman had time to shield his body or not, the chair still smashed into a hundred little pieces. Aoi felt his centre of balance tip as the assassin stumbled and Aoi found his body caught up in the after swing.  
  
The backrest of the chair still remained and Aoi yanked it back, righting himself in the process before slamming it at the assassin’s head again. He could feel that rage in him, bubbling up and spilling over and had the chair not completely broken after that hit, he knew he would have continued to beat it against the gunman’s head.  
  
It was like he was someone else, somewhere else, watching this scene with an eerie sense of detachment.  
  
The assassin crumpled, his legs giving way under the force of the blows. Just for good measure, Aoi felt himself dropping the broken bits of wood onto the man’s head.  
  
And then he was left with a choice that he couldn’t decide. To stay and fight or to run now. He wasn’t fool enough to think that a simple chair would be enough to stop the hired killer but at the same time he had a perfect opportunity.  
  
Although the dripping of something warm and thick running down his cheek reminded him otherwise. Perfect opportunity had it not been for all the witnesses and innocent people stuck there. They didn’t need to see any of this; they had seen enough and hell, if Aoi failed then he ran the risk of getting someone else killed on his part.  
  
It really wasn’t his choice – it never had been – but it was the right thing to do. As the assassin crouched on the ground, shaking his head back and forth slowly no doubt to try and clear the pain of both recent blows, Aoi stepped forward and aimed a well executed kick to the man’s hand. The gun he was holding shot out of his grip, sliding across the floor and disappearing under a table. The assassin grunted his annoyance but Aoi was already moving backwards, determined to get to the door before the man had time to get up. With the hitman unarmed, he at least stood a chance – well, that was until the assassin pulled another weapon but Aoi intended to be out the door by then.  
  
And so Aoi did what he knew he was good at and ran. Ran for all he was fucking worth and didn’t once look back.  
  
In a way he wished he could have – looked back, that was – but completely cutting himself off was probably the best thing. He doubted that the wife of the fallen man really wanted Aoi’s attention, even if he did want to tell her that he was sorry, that he wished things could have played out differently. Aoi wanted to tell her that her husband had been a true hero, up there with the likes of superheros and magnificent Greek gods, but that would probably only fall on deaf ears.  
  
What’s more, Aoi wanted to look back for his own needs. As morbid as it sounded, he wanted to see that body, see the blood and the wound and the grief emitting from the torn flesh. See it and understand it before properly cataloguing it away in his memory as a constant reminder.  
  
The only way to understand death and hell, even this strange world of gangsters and guns that he had been forced into was for him to actually see it. To witness it in all its nauseating glory and keep looking at it until it was drummed into his oftentimes thick mind.  
  
Despite that, he didn’t allow himself the chance. Perhaps it was a part of him that didn’t want to come to grips with things so quickly, or maybe that darker side of him still wanted to keep some innocence. Fuck, beyond all that maybe it was just his need to be away from danger and the horrific sight of death that meant he couldn’t look at it as he knew he should. Either way, it was easier to run and people could insult and joke about his flight all they wanted, but really, it was the only thing he could do.  
  
He had to get back to Ruki, he had to warn the other man and he needed to be there to help the little guy stand against these assassins. He _had_ to and that outweighed anything else that he currently needed in life.  
  
And so Aoi ran. He turned corners, dashed around garbage and leapt over cracks and sewer vents. For awhile he knew he was alone, just the sound of his heart and feet pulsing in his mind until slowly there was an irregularity. Another beat. Another life. More breath added to the air around him and he just knew that the assassin was again following.  
  
Once that realization had dawned on him, Aoi could clearly hear the thudding of the other’s running legs, the screeching as the man turned a corner too harshly and accidently pushed a dumpster off its rusted wheels; the beating of the assassins heart as he pushed himself to make up the lost time.  
  
The night became alive just for the two of them. It echoed their noises back and forth to each other, subtle hints to their whereabouts in their deadly game of cat and mouse.  
  
Aoi tried not to think of it like a hunters game, tried not to think of himself as the prey and for once his mind allowed him that bit of sanity. Instead he concentrated on not tripping, on running faster and faster and keeping his bearings. The last thing he needed was another dead-end.  
  
He had no way of telling how long he had been running for. No way to adequately consider the time or how much further he had to go, especially not when he heard another set of beats join into the nights music. Quicker and lighter and coming in from an angle. The other assassin. It didn’t take a genius to work out that Ruki must have lost him somehow – as the idea of Ruki being dead refused to occur to Aoi – and that the man was honing in on Aoi instead.  
  
Just as originally planned.  
  
Aoi picked up the pace, desperate not to be caught. He rounded another corner, ducked under a line of lanterns and paper wheels and flew past an older man who watched him with knowing eyes. Anyone running the streets at this time of night was either up to no good or running for their lives and Aoi knew that he was the perfect example of both.  
  
Sweat was starting to drip down his brow, stinging his eyes and matting his hair into knots. The steam from the streets and the rotting bowels of the sewers cloaked his pants, weighing them down with damp heat and swirling around him mysteriously as he moved. Moonlight flickered between the buildings, the interstellar beams occasionally illuminated by flashes of bright neon lights. In the distance a dog barked as tires and breaks squealed against the filth covered roads.  
  
It was like another world. Small, slanting shacks surrounded by tall, rundown buildings and highlighted by dying lights. It really was the slums, like in those grungy detective movies where nothing was shot in the daylight and where everything gleamed with a thin layer of decay. And Aoi was a shadow lost among that rotting world, adding to its filth with each step he took and with each breath he panted out between dry lips.  
  
Then Aoi turned the corner and saw it, like a shining star in the blackened night. The club. His muscles were burning, his lungs protesting at the way his breath came in restricting hitches.  
  
The shine of Uruha’s motorbike told him that Ruki must have made it back and a strange prang made his heart skip a beat. Relief.  
  
It somehow made it possible for him to double his pace, for his feet to eat up the distance between him, the club and Ruki even quicker. To allow for more distance to form between him and his relentless tails.  
  
Before he even knew it, he was yanking the door open and stepping inside. The heat of the place overwhelmed him for a moment, causing his head to lighten as his heart pounded from the exertion of his run. Just as Ruki had said, there were no patrons, not this early in the night. Aoi had never been to this club – or really to any – but he knew of places like this. They made their cash when others were closed, operating under the radar by opening late at night and partying well into the morning.  
  
Ruki had been right; this was the perfect place for all this shit to go down. Partygoers would be arriving in a few hours, eager to continue their drinking and flirting and that would most likely work in Ruki and Aoi’s favour. Any form of unexpected distraction to the assassins was most definitely a good thing.  
  
Off to Aoi’s left there was a click and Aoi had now spent enough time around guns to know that the noise came from sliding the safety back into place. There was a soft sigh that was quickly covered by a hushed cough before Ruki stepped out into the light.  
  
“They’re coming,” Aoi said as he stood in the doorway, his eyes locking with Ruki’s. The smaller man looked shocked, like he’d just been physically slapped by Aoi’s appearance but Aoi didn’t have the want or need to care.  
  
“How far?” Straight down to business and maybe Aoi had been tricking himself all along with his rose coloured glasses. Ruki didn’t care, there was no way of getting the smaller man to open up and accept him. Aoi would always been on the outside, looking in and fooling himself into believing that Ruki was attainable.  
  
His voice sounded stressed even to him, his throat having been pushed to the every limits of haggard breathing. “A few minutes. At best.”  
  
“Are you hurt?” And there was that crazy little curve ball that screwed Aoi up entirely. Ruki took a step closer to him, his little hand reaching out and his eyebrows furrowed together in concern. And fucked if it wasn’t obvious, maybe for the first time ever. That element of concern, that trace of feeling and worry and now that Aoi could see it; he didn’t know what to do.  
  
So he simply shook his head in a no. No, he wasn’t physically hurt, the blood wasn’t his – at least not for the most part – and yes, he would no doubt be fine. But not now, not so quickly.  
  
No sooner had he done so, Aoi felt his knees give way and his head spin out of control. His vision blurred out of focus and for just a moment he was terrified that he was about to retch.  
  
There was nothing else that he could do other than sink down to the floor and rest his head on his knees. He didn’t know why his body was shaking so violently, all he knew was that he couldn’t control it. Maybe it was shock, exhaustion, adrenaline or perhaps he was crying without realising it. All he knew was that as he sat there, the smell of someone else’s blood on his clothes and the dry, cracking feeling of it on his face and arms, was that Ruki had come closer.  
  
The other man was like a beacon in the darkness of Aoi’s own mind and as Ruki knelt down beside him, Aoi, for once, didn’t flinch. Not even as the other man’s hand raised and moved towards his head and Aoi’s panicked brain told him that Ruki was about to slap him for his weakness.  
  
Yet instead, Ruki’s small hand became like an anchor buried in his hair and Ruki’s short fingers slowly and surely massaged the crown of Aoi’s head. Aoi didn’t feel crowded, or belittled or even embarrassed for his weakness. Just those simple, small and circling little touches managed to slowly calm his shakes with warmth and an otherwise unknown sense of compassion.  
  
“It’ll be ok.” Maybe it was lie; maybe it wasn’t, but for once, that was all Aoi needed to hear and to feel.  
  


*****  
****

**Chapter Nineteen Preview: **

  
  
“I want the tall one,” Aoi said and Ruki felt a chill run up his spine. It really hadn’t occurred to him that they would have to choose who to take on. As horrible as it sounded Ruki was ready to have to do all the work himself while Aoi hid in a corner and yelled out support on random occasions. But watching Aoi, blood stained and tall, his shoulders square and his cheeks flushed; it was like a bad dream.  
  
“Alright,” Ruki replied, drawing the word out as he nodded slightly.


	21. Chapter Nineteen – Playing Poker with the Devil

**Chapter Nineteen**

Playing Poker with the Devil

*****

  
  
Aoi looked like hell.  
  
There was no other way to put it. No way to candy coat it and make it sound flowery or surreal with dark imagery. Hot and tired, his hair was stuck to his face, his mouth open and his bottom lip almost chewed right through. Blood splattered his pale yet flushed skin and more drying crimson could be seen on his clothes.  
  
In short, he looked like he’d traversed hell. Twice. And then maybe back again just for good measure.  
  
Before Aoi had shown up Ruki had been stressing. Pacing back and forth with a gun in his hand which he had taken to spinning over his index finger by the trigger guard. Every now and then he’d stop, bite at his thumb nail, glance at the door and then pick up right where he left off. Got to the point where he was sure he’s almost worn a track out in the middle of the bar floor. A nice little trail standing as testimony to his beating heart and sweaty hands.  
  
The club was suffocating in its isolation. Ruki was used to it pumping, both the music and the throb of bodies. He’d never seen so much of the damn floor in his life. It was always hidden from view, secreted away by the swarm of legs and attached shoes and when the dancer and drinkers and hell, even the hookers had cleared out, the place was left looking like some battle ground. A cemetery for all things paper and coloured; flyers, tickets, coasters, cigarette packets and peeled labels. Nothing was left untouched by the heavy trod of shoes and the sticky wetness of spilt alcohol.  
  
Yet now all that existed was floor. Long, flat stretches of it, rolling out like some grass field until it smacked into the side of the buildings walls. Tiles, non slip mats, stairs with metal skid guards and more fucking tiles.  
  
It was driving Ruki insane just looking at it but fucked if he could get his eyes to focus anywhere else. The door was out of the question. That made him too anxious and saw him spinning that gun faster and faster so that he was hardly a step away from accidently pulling the trigger. The walls were no better and just stood to remind him how well and truly caged in he was. That left the ceiling and all its black painted glory which, to Ruki’s overworked, stressed mind, resembled some black hole that was lowing down to swallow him whole.  
  
It would have no doubt been better had he had someone to talk to. Not that Ruki liked to talk, but it had to beat this sort of suffocating, waiting silence.  
  
Wataru had disappeared out the back, saying that he was going to make sure that neither of the gunmen could spring them from behind. Ruki had agreed, plus it would give them an advantage, having a man secluded and on the sly. Hopefully the assassins were still under the impression that it was just Ruki and Aoi that they were chasing.  
  
At the same time something about the PI was starting to concern Ruki. He was being too helpful, too eager to please and protect. Not that Wataru was one to shun a friend in need, but this wasn’t exactly some high school bully situation. Life and death; and Ruki wouldn’t have thought any less of him had Wataru wanted to get the hell out of there before the shit hit the fan.  
  
As much as he hated to admit it, he wouldn’t be surprised if there was an attack from behind even if both assassins came through the front. Though, if that were the case then Ruki knew that it would be the end. There would be no recovering from that. Three against one – or well, one and some guy who couldn’t shoot straight to save his own life – really weren’t good odds. Not to mention that there was still the mystery of Yuusuke’s whereabouts. If he decided to pop up and join in on the attack then Ruki would be dead before he could say “Fuck,” and that would be it. All over. Dark gates of hell and fire and all that fun and exciting jazz that Ruki had to look forward to once his life was snuffed out.  
  
All those thoughts met with an untimely end however, when Aoi burst into the door and Ruki momentarily thought he was about to get dead. For a brief moment his finger twitched, squeezing the trigger of the quickly rising gun as he aimed it at the door. Whether it was divine intervention, skill or lack thereof, Ruki somehow managed to not shoot Aoi. Not that it probably would have made much difference considering the way the man looked. Ruki half suspected that Aoi would have been happier with a bullet in his brain than what he was now and for once there was no snide, nasty undertone to Ruki’s thoughts. Just pure observation.  
  
Ruki had tried to be as accommodating as possible and oddly he didn’t feel the need to retch when he finally took a position on the floor next to the man. Fucked if he knew why, but being in the remote vicinity of the hacker no longer turned his stomach. Maybe it had something to do with the probability of impending death and eternal hell fire. That sort of thing always had a way of putting life and priorities into perspective.  
  
Then again, maybe not. Maybe it was more forced gratitude even if Ruki refused to believe that Aoi had any skills at anything. But he _had_ saved Ruki’s ass out there and he _had_ put himself in danger in order to do it. That wasn’t an easy thing to just forget no matter how cold Ruki wanted to be.  
  
So he had sat there, stroking the man’s dark, damp hair and trying to offer what little support he had the courage to give. It was a pretty pathetic effort but Ruki was sure that it beat the hell out of nothing. Aoi seemed to soak it up anyway and as Ruki watched, the man’s shoulders started to square and his head lift.  
  
“Come on,” he whispered and Ruki was surprised by how gentle his own voice sounded. Flashes of him trying to talk his wounded puppy out from hiding under his bed as a child assaulted his mind and despite himself, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Though, if anything, Aoi was more of a cat anyway.  
  
Aoi actually nodded, a response that Ruki hadn’t been expecting in the slightest. It prompted Ruki to stand up quicker and before knowing what he was doing, he reached down and offered the other man a lift up.  
  
Once Aoi was on his feet, he was like a completely different man. The sobs had stopped, colour was returning to his face and somehow the blood and dirt managed to make him look sinister, not weak and vulnerable like when he’d burst through the door.  
  
“I want the tall one,” Aoi said and Ruki felt a chill run up his spine. It really hadn’t occurred to him that they would have to choose who to take on. As horrible as it sounded Ruki was ready to have to do all the work himself while Aoi hid in a corner and yelled out support on random occasions. But watching Aoi, blood stained and tall, his shoulders square and his cheeks flushed; it was like a bad dream turned into reality and if Ruki hadn’t already realised that this was serious business, then it would have been loud and clear then and there.  
  
“Alright,” Ruki replied, drawing the word out as he nodded slightly. “You think you can handle him?”  
  
“Only one way to find out.” Cold and clipped, biting and unrelenting, Aoi’s voice held the tone of someone who didn’t just want revenge. He wanted even, he wanted justice and then he wanted more on top of that. Pain. Ruki could see it in the other man’s taunt muscles and tightly set jaw. Ruki recognised that want and need far too well.  
  
“Aoi?” Ruki’s mouth had opened before he even worked out what the hell he wanted to say. All he knew was that he had to say something. Anything, but fucked if he knew how to go about it.  
  
The words, ‘you’re scaring me,’ came to mind but Ruki really didn’t like how they made him sound. He was meant to be the hardened gangster who wasn’t afraid of death and saying something like that just really didn’t suit that image. Even if it was true. ‘Are you sure,’ also seemed entirely inappropriate as did shaking Aoi and screaming at him not to be stupid and telling him he was getting blinded by his own hatred.  
  
Then Aoi gave him that look. That one that was dark and mysterious and so fucking sure that Ruki had trouble to remember exactly why he thought the other man was an idiot in the first place.  
  
“Okay.” Ruki merely nodded and in a way he guessed that it really was. Aoi was ready for this and fuck the world if they saw it as wrong and inhuman and as murder. But Aoi was ready, he’d been pushed and shoved and hurt and broken and now he was fighting back. Ruki could sympathise with that.  
  
“I can’t cover your ass if you can’t take him.” Ruki didn’t know why he had to specify that, but at the time, before the words had come out of his mouth, it seemed like the right thing to say. Afterwards though, something about the entire sentence seemed wholly inappropriate, especially since he had previously been imagining himself having to deal with both assassins anyway.  
  
“I wouldn’t expect you to.” Fucked if Ruki didn’t just feel like a shithead. Aoi said the words so coldly with so much emotional detachment that Ruki felt as if the other man had already known that he would say just that. To hell with the predictability of it all, it was the knowledge that Aoi wasn’t expecting anything from Ruki that really made his heart sink.  
  
Ruki had always prided himself on being strong, on being tougher than everyone else and hell, he even went as far as being cunningly cruel. But in that moment he hated himself. Hated what those few little words made him feel, what they meant and even worse, that they were the truth. It made him question himself. Question everything that he thought and believed in. Had he become so cold that people just expected him to look after himself and himself alone? More so over, when had his mentality slipped from simple self preservation to lowly self obsession, to where he was willing to sacrifice even someone who had helped him just to survive?  
  
Ruki hardly believed that such feelings could be true; he didn’t even know that they existed within himself. Not until Aoi said those damn words and looked at him with those accursed deep eyes. Now everything was ruined, hazy and in fucking shades of grey and black and Ruki felt his stomach churn.  
  
Figured that it would be Aoi to go and ruin it all like that though for once Ruki couldn’t even find it in himself to hate the man. It was almost impossible to. For all Aoi’s short comings and all his idiocy and ability to fuck up lives with the press of a damned button, Ruki couldn’t hate him for this. All Aoi did was point out the blindingly obvious in a way that didn’t allow Ruki not to see it.  
  
The rustling of clothes caused Ruki to shake his head and actually refocus on his surroundings. Aoi was moving away, his head down and his hair falling in his face. The ponytail from the bike was long gone, the dark strands mattered with so much sweat and blood that they hung in thick clumps along with his fringe.  
  
It was a completely different person again who was walking away from him. So many faces of the one man. Ruki couldn’t help but wonder if he displayed the same sort of persona; or did he simply have one. That harsh, jaded façade that had long since became a permanent fixture.  
  
But looking at Aoi’s downcast face, his brows no doubt knotted in concentration or some other secretive feeling that only the hacker would know, Ruki felt even worse. And then the words were coming out of his mouth before he even realised it. All he could be thankful for was that it was just a name, just a soft questioning name said into the dark club and not the sea of emotions and thoughts that were whirling through his head.  
  
“Aoi?” The man stopped, his neck turning so he could glance at Ruki over his shoulder.  
  
If asked Ruki would no doubt animatedly talk about how strange it was when things just happened. It was like the world went crazy, spun around until everyone was throwing up and then just plonked right back into place. Civilized order. At least that was what it felt like when Aoi looked at him. Dark eyes smouldered, the intensity of those orbs heightened by the smudges of dirt, blood and the remains of eyeliner.  
  
Suddenly Ruki had the overwhelming urge to start babbling. Rant and rave and sprout thankyous for all that Aoi had done for him and for all the shit Ruki had put him through. He wanted to tell the man to be careful, not to get himself killed and to make sure that he’d be there at the end, alive and ready to walk the fuck away from all this. Maybe they’d have coffee.  
  
Somehow he managed to hold it all in. Ruki locked all those thoughts away and pitched the key into some dark inner hole, successfully preventing all ability for him to talk. Instead he merely nodded at the hacker, slow and deep in a way that he just knew Aoi would understand. He was proven right when Aoi nodded back and then, completely off the cuff, added in a lopsided, crazily silly smile and fucked if Ruki’s heart didn’t do a tiny little summersault.  
  
Such a small moment, such a tiny little expression and yet there was nothing – nothing this side of hell – that would have stopped Ruki from returning it in kind. A grin, pure and true, sincere and kind and all those warm fussy words that Ruki didn’t normally attach to expressions. That was what he offered Aoi back.  
  
This time, when the hacker walked away, it was with his head held high and Ruki allowed himself the moment to image that those worry lines had smoothed out just a bit.  
  
As Aoi made his way up the steel steps of the club, Ruki turned his attention to the front door. They had been over this plan countless times at Uruha’s, he Aoi and Wataru with Uru adding his thoughts and comments when need be. It was mapped out, calculated and perfect. That was, of course, until those doors opened and all hell broke loose.  
  
That was the problem with plans. They never worked. Not once. Try as you might there was never any way to predict something from start to finish. As soon as there was another party involved then all bets were off and the cards were on the table. Of course, somewhere, someone had a few aces shoved up their sleeves and the kitty was rigged with explosives. That was what made it all so dangerous. If only one of the assassins walked through the door, they were screwed. If neither of them showed up then everything was for nothing.  
  
If either of the assassins got the upper hand for even a moment then it may as well be over. They were dealing with pros. People trained to kill, to fight and to always win. To take out the toughest of targets and while Ruki and Aoi had aces up their sleeves they were from a different deck. They didn’t match and were hardly playable.  
  
Now it was just a matter of waiting and damn, Ruki hated waiting.  
  
Pulling one of his guns from its holster, he racked the slide and loaded the bullet. The soft clicking sound of the safety getting switched off came next before the weapon hung from his hand and rested against his upper thigh.  
  
He stared at the door. Glared at it, blinked at it, pouted and snarled and then stared at it some more. Time ticked by, the world dragged on and for all Ruki knew he could have been standing there until the world ended and the sun exploded. Upstairs he heard a shuffle followed by a cough and then all was quiet. Dead quiet and for a moment he entertained horrible ideas of Aoi having died up there for no apparent reason. Just dropped dead in the middle of the darkened floor.  
  
“Ruki?” There was no way that Ruki could hide the way he flinched when he heard his name. He almost tripped over his own damn feet too, which he was sure Aoi would have heard perfectly clear. Even the gun in his hand seemed to rattle at the unexpected noise.  
  
“What?” Ruki grumbled as he attempted to straighten himself up and calm his beating heart. He stubbornly refused to look up even though he knew he couldn’t see Aoi and the other man wouldn’t be able to see him.  
  
Silence followed and Ruki knew that he had blown it. Whatever Aoi was going to say was long gone, swallowed and hidden in the taller man’s throat at Ruki’s harsh reply. Ruki rolled his eyes and silently congratulated himself on putting his foot in it yet again.  
  
“Be careful down there,” the voice called back down and again Ruki smiled through his surprise. Of all the things he had expected, that hadn’t been one of them. That wasn’t even on the list, not even way down there in cliff notes at the bottom. Automatically his eyes lifted, locking onto a spot of gloom that he was sure housed the hacker and something about that made him smile even more.  
  
“Same with you, Aoi,” Ruki whispered back. Maybe the hacker heard him or maybe not; Ruki could only wish that he did. Somehow though he couldn’t find the voice to say it, to call it out as Aoi had done. A slight rustle from above gave Ruki the impression that he didn’t actually need to and that felt even better.  
  
Then it was back to waiting. This time it didn’t take long. It felt like a mini eternity, like someone had taken forever and sliced it up before handing Ruki the largest chunk, but it had nothing on the time before Aoi had spoken. Perhaps it was because, try as he might, Ruki couldn’t fully remove the smile from his face just as he couldn’t stop playing Aoi’s little statement over in his head. So much so that when the time actually came, the doors rattling as fate herself was knocking, Ruki would have given anything for just a little more time. A larger slice of eternity to make his way through and to help delay the inevitable.  
  
The door opened, light flooded the room and two armed men walked in.  
  
That was it. There was nothing special about it, nothing remarkable about their entrance; not a single thing that suggested that they were trained killers there for a single purpose. Two men walked into a bar. Ruki almost smiled as they descended the stairs, their strides matching, marking them as an eerie couple.  
  
It was strange realising that this was the moment; this was what everything else had been leading up to. The running, the pain – that constant throb in his side – all the fighting, the death, the blood and fear. It all pointed and guided them to this very moment. Like moths to flames, each one of them – Ruki, Aoi, Wataru, the assassins – each had been led here through promises and tugs of fate. All he had to do now was walk out and embrace it.  
  
Ruki felt like he was strutting out onto a stage; a strange cabaret dancer offering dark promises with each step. A spy was more like it, a fellow assassin offering seductive fantasies followed by a swipe of a blade.  
  
Like the meeting of two armies before a battle, the three men stopped as one, leaving about a two meter gap between them. For the longest time they just stood there, staring each other down.  
  
It was an odd thing to be able to study your opponent before the strike, but in a way Ruki was glad for it. These men had been the bane of his existence and in just a matter of days they had managed to destroy his world for a second time and rob him of all the remnants of happiness he had managed to scrounge.  
  
That was a big thing. There was no way to describe it, to put his finger on the pain that was running through his heart and mind. To kick a man while he was down. That was a saying that now, more than ever, Ruki understood. He’d been down for years, withering on the ground like some headless snake and now these two men had taken to him with a pitchfork.  
  
Despite that, neither party made a move against the other; both were happy to just stand there and stare. A look into the eyes of fate and destiny and all that crazy crap that Ruki didn’t want to believe in.  
  
Finally, when the silence and stillness couldn’t annoy him any more, it was Ruki who spoke, shattering the deceptive peace of the room.  
  
“Walk away,” Ruki said. His voice was deep and clipped neither showing stress nor fear; completely emotionless as he stood there, gun in hand and glaring at the two men. It was a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions within him. “Walk away now.”  
  
The shorter of the two cocked his head to the side and studied Ruki for a moment. Ruki could see the calculating edge to the gaze, the way the man was weighing him up quickly and strange as it was, Ruki took that as a compliment. Apparently they hadn’t been expecting either Aoi or himself to put up such a fight. At least that was one thing that they could die being happy about; they had given it their absolute best and even proved to be a run for their money.  
  
“There is a pretty price on your heads,” the assassin eventually said. Ruki was stunned by just how quiet his voice was. Shy and timid and not at all the authoritative tones that Ruki had been expecting from someone so dangerous and resolved.  
  
“It’s not worth it,” Ruki reasoned, offering the two a small shrug. It was a lie and he knew it, but there wasn’t much else he could say. If Reita had been the one to call these guys in then there was no telling just how _high_ he had set the bounty. Fucking _excessive_, that was all Ruki knew.  
  
“I’m not so sure about that.” It was the taller man that spoke this time, deep, rolling tones to his voice and Ruki had the sense to almost fear him more than the first.  
  
The idea of Aoi facing this man alone was suddenly horrific. Flashes of his confrontation with the shorter of the two on the taxi came to mind, and the way he had been stalked relentlessly through the train station. And in the midst of it all was Aoi. Dashing in and saving the fucking day in a blaze of stupid, unpredictable glory. Ruki had to give him credit; he could no longer deny it.  
  
“You will regret it,” Ruki replied. It wasn’t meant to be a threat; the words were merely spoken, not hissed out with a venous spit. It was merely a statement that reaffirmed that Ruki wasn’t going down without a fight.  
  
Ruki half expected something corny in response. Something from one of those stupid movies that Aoi was a fan of. A tough spoken line and jab of the jaw; narrowing of the eyes and the cocking of a hip in a display of hardcore attitude. Instead he was met with nothing more than a depraving look before the shortest assassin raised his gun.  
  
No preamble, none of that movie world hesitation and evil genius speeches. Straight to the deadly serious point.  
  
“Aoi NOW!” Ruki saw himself dying. Saw an error, a slip in time; Aoi making a mistake. The gun rose, the distance shortened as the assassin stepped forward and Ruki could almost feel the pain as he silently begged Aoi to keep him alive.  
  
Despite all his vivid fantasies, the words no sooner came out of Ruki’s mouth and the room erupted into chaos. Kicking himself into action, Ruki ducked, his arms flying up to cover his head and he threw himself to the side. It was a well thought out move, the actions repeated over and over in his head since the moment they had come up with it. Well, no, since the moment Aoi had come up with it and again Ruki didn’t know whether to curse the man and his movie freaked mind or praise him.  
  
Ruki tucked his head into his chest and rolled over his shoulder as he hit the ground. Before he even stood to his feet, music bleared out of the speakers and lights flashed at a dizzying pace. In just a matter of seconds, the once quiet club was turned into something that resembled a carnival. A one stop freak show where Ruki was the main attraction.  
  
Adjusting his grip on the gun, Ruki watched as the assassins reacted. It was in slow motion, Ruki was sure of it and strange as it was, it was like the sky really was falling. At least parts of it and Ruki watched as a large black blurred past him, coming from the ceiling and heading straight for the ground.  
  
The lights smashed onto the polished floor, fragments of coloured glass flying out left, right and centre as the scaffolding pounded them into the tiles. Ruki scrambled back a few more steps, feeling the shards sticking into his clothing and scratching at his skin. Even over the roar of the music, the soft tinkling of the glass had a way of worming itself into his ears causing his body to cringe and his teeth to clench.  
  
Things only got crazier as bullets started raining down around them, tearing into the floor and bent metal with heated hisses. The flashes of Aoi’s gun blurred into those of the remaining lights and mixed with the music, created a dizzying, disorienting battlefield.  
  
For once Ruki didn’t balk, didn’t even fucking blink or think that Aoi might hit him. He just knew that he wouldn’t. The hacker may not have been able to shoot straight or aim, but deep inside Ruki knew that there was no way that Aoi would allow one of those deadly slugs to bite him.  
  
It was wholly odd trusting someone else again.  
  
As expected the plan worked a charm. The gunfire grabbed the attention of the assassins and as if they had had the same conversation that Aoi and Ruki had, they looked at each other once before the taller man made his move. Maybe it was their contracts, maybe it was an unspoken agreement not to intrude on each others kill, but they seemed to have at least agreed on their own marks which corresponded with Ruki and Aoi’s own choices.  
  
The dark haired man made a dash for the stairs and Ruki had to force himself to look away. He was Aoi’s problem now. He couldn’t afford to worry about what transpired on that top level.  
  
Divide and conquer. That had been the basis of their plan. It was painfully obvious that neither Aoi nor Ruki were overly equipped to work together as a team. They’d end up falling over each other, blundering in their strange sort of awkwardness. The assassins however were stronger as a pair. Trained and tested in working as one to the point where they were almost a hive mind; there was no way that Ruki and Aoi could stand against that.  
  
That left them with only one choice. Try and separate them and take them down that way. It was a worrying tactic, but it was also the best option.  
  
Turning his attention back to the blond assassin, Ruki watched as the man seemed to grow in stature. Like some god of old, the chaos and confusion around him seemed to gravitate towards him, fill his chest and stretch his body until he was a figure to be reckoned with.  
  
Ruki watched and counted his heartbeats. Fast and erratic, they were hardly a good demonstration of even time, but short of humming some song in his head it was the best he could do.  
  
Any time now, he told himself. Any time… and when the moment he’d been waiting for finally hit, Ruki was just as surprised as the gunman before him.  
  
There was a loud bang from the doors and the whole front of the club rattled. For a moment Ruki thought the wall would give way, that a black hole the size of the earth would open up and swallow them all whole. Take them kicking and screaming into some strange sideways hell. But the building was tough; it had withstood more than a rattling push before and Ruki was sure it would live to suffer through a hell of a lot more.  
  
Besides, the rattling was good. The creaking, the hissing of an engine and the bang of a door were all positive signs.  
  
Wataru.  
  
The lights falling were the count of one; get the fuck out of the back. The gunshots counted beat two; hell was breaking loose so start the car. After that, well there was no count other than heartbeats and a simple wish for the best and a heavy foot to speed.  
  
The rest was up to Wataru and Ruki breathed an audible sigh of relief as the sound of a dying engine filtered into the room. It was nice to have his paranoia revealed as just that. Nothing but suspicious fears and the workings of an overactive imagination leading him astray. Now the idea of Wataru betraying them seemed laughable, damnright stupid and completely insane.  
  
For all his ex-cop habits, Wataru sure had the willingness to abuse the law. One of the main issues in their plan was how to make sure that the assassins didn’t bolt once they realised the extent of the trap. Much debate had followed, ideas getting tossed around left, right and centre only to be metaphorically crumpled up and thrown in the bin.  
  
It was Uruha who had suggested it. Such a simple little thing to. Bolt the doors. That was, however, easier said than done. The doors were locked from the inside at the end of the night and all staff exited out the back. If the assassins went that way then Ruki and Aoi could kiss their sweet advantages goodbye, not to mention that there was no easy way to bolt the doors. Not when threatened with gunfire and impending death.  
  
Following that little notion it was Aoi again who had thought of the perfect solution.  
  
Drive a car into the doorway and keep it permanently closed.  
  
It was so simplistic in design that it was almost flawless. Flawless except for one thing. The lack of a car. Not that that proved to be a huge issue and before long plans were fully under way to hotwire a car, keep it close by and use it to trap the assassins in. Nice, clean, simple and highly illegal, Ruki just chalked it up to the growing list of stuff that Atsushi could fry his arse for if he survived the night.  
  
With the doors closed that meant there was only one way in or out of the club which, if all went to plan, Wataru would be guarding. That meant no surprise attacks from any of Reita’s men, no unexpected distractions and an easy escape should Ruki and Aoi need it. A perfect plan; a royal flush in the game of chance.  
  
Once again Ruki was staring the assassin down, looking at him over a barrier of ruined steel and shattered glass. The wall that divides; a perfect example of history repeating itself. Karma biting him in the ass for some past transgressions or maybe even a few recent ones.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Aoi run across the suspended second floor, a streak of dark hair and flowing clothes. Ruki tried to block him out, tried not to think about the man getting cornered by that assassin and killed. Ruki wasn’t even sure that it was because he wanted the pleasure of throttling Aoi himself anymore. Now it was just a plain wish for the other man to survive.  
  
A silent prayer was all that Ruki could spare before locking his eyes on his own target. If Aoi was to survive than Ruki had to do his bit and visa versa. They may not have been overly good at working together but even separated like this, each action needed to be considered.  
  
It was with that in mind that Ruki lifted his gun, pointed it at his foe and squeezed the bloody trigger. The trigger gave way under the insistent pressure of Ruki’s finger, clicking loudly as the gun came to life. The hammer drew back, paused for a moment before slamming back into the base of the slide. The gun jerked in Ruki’s hand, round after round exploding out of the barrel and propelling into the night. The shock caused his arm to shake but it was easy to ignore; it wasn’t like he had a choice in the matter anyway.  
  
Like a mirrored parody, Ruki watched as the assassin lifted his own weapon and returned in kind. Bullets whizzed back and forth as each met the threat with one of their own. Ruki moved as he shot, sidestepping his way along the edge of the bar with the assassin doing the same. They were so balanced, so fucking timed that Ruki wouldn’t have been surprised if their bullets collided in mid air, the two separate slugs fusing and becoming cooling hunks of metal between them.  
  
Eight bullets flew and eight fucking bullets missed. Not that Ruki had been betting on being able to shoot the guy just like that, but it was still a bit of a shock. Ruki was a pretty good aim, he’d had the training and been handling guns longer then he could even remember and yet all eight fucking missed the guy. Either Ruki was shaking too much of this guy was good, and sadly Ruki knew that the latter was more likely.  
  
The gun clicked, that hollow final sound causing a sickening feeling to sink deep into Ruki’s stomach. It was like he was physically lurched backwards by a rope around his middle, pulling and disrupting his fragile sense of being and turning his world upside down.  
  
The mirrored timing of their shooting allowed for one plus. The assassin’s gun ran out at the same time.  
  
The assassin spun on his feet, his short jacket flaring out around him as his hand disappeared within its dark folds. Ruki had seen the move before – pulled it once or twice himself. It was a flourish, a dismissive turn of the back while allowing the shooter time to either load another clip or pull another gun. The hitman would turn with his arm extended, a new weapon of destruction loaded and ready to continue the match.  
  
Watching the assassin move, Ruki made the quick decision to split. There was no way he was going to win out in the open like that. He needed cover, needed time to reload. No matter his training, there was no way he was faster than the hired killer.  
  
Ruki ran and launched himself at the bar. It was a shitty hiding spot – he was sure that even Aoi would know that from all those movies he watched – but it was his best bet of cover.  
  
Sliding across the bar, Ruki spun on his stomach so that he landed feet first. Bullets chased him the entire way. Bottles exploded like blooming flowers above him only instead of petals they sent forth a spray of glass and sticky liquid. It rained down around him, running off the layered shelves like waterfalls and pooling on the granite floor.  
  
Pressing his back to the fridge door, Ruki ejected the empty mag and reached to his left. His hand found the small cupboard door. Wrenching it open, he easily located the spare magazine that he had stashed in there during the set up. Dry and hidden, it was a perfect place to hide extra bullets and was merely one of the small weapons stations Aoi and Wataru had set up.  
  
That had been the other part of the plan. While Ruki was off leading the men to the club, Aoi and Wataru had been in charge of setting the trap. Spare guns and bullets were littered around the room, hidden yet easily accessible should they need them. It meant that they only had to carry what they needed, keeping them faster to move while not allowing the assassins to get an advantage if they managed to disarm.  
  
Clicking the loaded cartridge into place, Ruki shoved the cupboard closed and loaded a bullet into the chamber. That reassuring click was nice, a cold comfort in the strangeness of the club.  
  
Looking up, Ruki watched as alcohol dripped from the glass shelves. Thick and sticky as it all mixed together, it reminded him of blood in the dim lights. The essence of life dripping away with such cold disregard.  
  
Win or lose; kill or be killed. That was what it all came down to.  
  
Eyes darting to the right, Ruki focused on a silver water jug, seeing the reflection of the assassin in the polished surface. He was creeping closer, obviously trying to work out if any of his slugs had hit their target or not. Ruki waited, counting out footsteps and weighing them against his heart beat. Not too soon and deadly if he left it too late.  
  
Finally that distorted reflection got closer enough and Ruki was moving. Pushing himself onto his feet, he was aiming the gun before he even turned around and his finger already had the trigger squeezed half way.  
  
With a sickening twist of his stomach and a resolved half chuckle, Ruki knew that the games had truly begun. He pulled the trigger.  
  


*****  
****

**Chapter Twenty Preview: **

  
  
The gunman noticed at the last moment. His gun lifted, his eyes registering shock at the trap he no doubt should have seen.  
  
It was too late though. A single second earlier and Aoi would have been dead, shot straight through as he ran at the oncoming bullet. A second later and the assassin’s life could have ended without a struggle and without a noise. Instead they crashed somewhere in the middle of each other’s destinies; an even playing field. Fate wasn’t taking sides just yet.


	22. Chapter Twenty – How to put out fire with Gasoline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! 
> 
> Hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season, and thanks for all the well wishes. I had an amazing time (photos here if you're interested: https://www.flickr.com/photos/185587556@N03/albums) and am ready to take on the new year!

**Chapter Twenty**  
How to put out fire with Gasoline

  
*****

  
  
Waiting never sat well with Aoi. It made him fidgety, anxious and caused him to nibble on his lip ring. He’d been doing that far too much lately and the skin around the metal piercing was starting to throb. The fact that the opposite side of his lip was split from where Ruki had hit him sure as hell didn’t help either.  
  
But then again there was nothing else he could do, not while lurking up in the shadows of the second level of the club. It was all just a game, a waiting game that he couldn’t control or predict.  
  
He could hear Ruki talking to them, hear the calm, cold tones of the little man’s voice and it sent shivers down Aoi’s spine. How Ruki could remain so casual when faced with certain death astounded Aoi and in a way made him jealous. Inwardly he knew that he would never have that. He could fake it and act as confident as he wanted but he would never have that natural sense of power that Ruki did.  
  
Strangely enough, despite the initial jealousy, Aoi didn’t actually mind. He was much happier up here, waiting and shadowed and alone with his thoughts. If this was going to be their last stand and the night that would end it all, Aoi wanted to make peace with himself fully and completely, not be down there trying to act tough in what could possibly be the last minutes of his life.  
  
Aoi remembered his previous thoughts about death; how he had never imagined it and yet always pictured it much differently to how it would likely end up. Now that train of thought didn’t bother him. The idea of death didn’t terrify him to the point where he couldn’t move. Well, not in the conventional sense at least. There was no way he was ready to die just yet, but if his number was rolled then at least now he could say that he was ok with it.  
  
There was no point lying to himself either. He hadn’t become some great hero overnight or a valiant soldier ready to die for an order. All that had happened was that he had come to terms with what he was capable of and, in a way, who he really was. His life had been the stage show and now this final game was at last on even ground. He could inflict pain on others, he could protect himself and if the need called for it, he could and would kill.  
  
Oddly, he was perfectly at ease with that.  
  
That sort of clarity wasn’t an easy thing to deal with though Aoi didn’t struggle with that either. It just was. Just like the sun would rise and then set, Aoi had merely changed enough that such thoughts were second nature.  
  
Then it was all happening and Aoi couldn’t work out how he had gotten from point A to point B while still functioning. He put it down to another of those otherworldly, movie magic moments. One moment he was hiding, staying as still and silent as possible and then the next he was tugging on some hastily tied up rope and hoping to god that he didn’t squash Ruki in the process.  
  
Thankfully the plan worked out fine. The falling lights, while dramatic, had been a nice touch and something he and Wataru had been able to work out before Aoi had gone looking for Ruki.  
  
Chaos erupted down below and once the sound of smashing glass faded to a dull ringing the deafening roar of gunfire took over. Taking off at a quick jog, Aoi easily covered the ground of the top dance floor. He didn’t stop until he was in the darkest, corner, furthest away from the only stairs up.  
  
Hands gripping the railing, Aoi leaned over as far as he dared and watched, his mind caught somewhere between morbid fascination and horror as Ruki opened fire.  
  
Something about the little man was amazing to watch, almost addicting. For all his hurts and injuries, Ruki kept moving and refused to show them. Stubborn, pig headed, stupid and fantastically brave. Again, Aoi almost envied him.  
  
From his high vantage point Aoi could see how perfectly matched the two men were. Each bullet was met with a partner, fired mere milliseconds later. Each step was mirrored with a step to the point where it got almost impossible to tell who was shooting first and who was dodging and returning in kind.  
  
Aoi gripped the railing, feeling his knuckles going white as his fingers wrapped around tighter and tighter.  
  
A streak of movement near the stairs forced Aoi to tear his eyes off Ruki and pay attention to his own surroundings; his own end game. The assassin was at the bottom of the stairs, one arm reaching forward to grab the railing.  
  
Aoi’s heart did a little tumble turn. Strange as it was, that was it. There was no panicking, so hindrance of his breath or overly sweaty palms. Just that little lurch and that was all. Maybe he was being stupid or giving himself too much credit, but Aoi took that as meaning he was all good. Acceptance. Determination.  
  
Shrugging to himself in silent recognition, Aoi loosened his empty gun from his belt and dropped it on the floor. He nudged it with his boot, setting it into the dim light before slipping back into the dark. Just like that the moment of truth was all over and Aoi was back hiding in the shadows, this time waiting for a much different prompt.  
  
It was like all his senses were alive, tingling with a new sense of perception and feeling. He could hear the man’s footsteps in a way that resembled the heart quickening chase through the city. Aoi could hear the assassin’s breathing, almost feel the disturbance in the air as the man worked his way up the steps. On top of all that Aoi could feel the hate and malice oozing from the man and nothing about that was pleasant. It was thick and sticky, black and suffocating as the hitman moved closer.  
  
Pressing his lips together, Aoi just waited, letting that indescribable feeling wash over him. He was almost sinking in it, wallowing in the other man’s emotions. There was no point in struggling against it, in trying to think of happy, pleasant thoughts. That feeling of tension and hatred just was; it existed merely for this moment and Aoi wasn’t going to go and try and sugar coat it.  
  
Besides, he felt like some strange monster lurking in the dark and waiting for its prey. Evil and sinister in a way that made the assassin an innocent.  
  
It was a wholly unpleasant feeling.  
  
The man walked slowly, like all those cops did in the movies Aoi loved to watch. He crossed one foot over the other, mirroring the actions of a timid crab while holding his gun out in front of him. Apparently he had the sense to be worried. Confined spaces and dark corners had a way of making anyone think twice before continuing so Aoi could only just imagine what was going through the mind of a trained killer.  
  
Suddenly his little decoy plan didn’t seem like such a great idea. It was Childs play compared to what this killer was used to dealing with. Aoi had all sorts of horrible ideas of the assassin seeing right through it, turning towards him and just pulling the trigger. BANG. One second and it would all be over.  
  
Aoi squeezed his eyes closed for a moment and waited for the loud noise and shooting pain of discovery.  
  
Nothing. Just more of that deadly malice and slowly creeping footsteps. Maybe it would be ok, maybe…  
  
Forcing his eyes open, Aoi focused back on the shadowy figure of the assassin. Aoi could tell that he was weary. Foul play was quickly being suspected and with that, Aoi was losing his window of opportunity.  
  
It was like someone famous once said; there was no better time than now. Seize the day, live as if today was your last, carpe momento and fuck it all, Aoi knew he should do just that.  
  
Mindlessly, he managed to push himself off the wall he was leaning on and before he really knew it, he was charging the assassin down.  
  
The gunman noticed at the last moment. His gun lifted, his eyes registering shock at the trap he no doubt should have seen.  
  
It was too late though. A single second earlier and Aoi would have been dead, shot straight through as he ran at the oncoming bullet. A second later and the assassin’s life could have ended without a struggle and without a noise. Instead they crashed somewhere in the middle of each other’s destinies; an even playing field. Fate wasn’t taking sides just yet.  
  
The two men collided with a noise that could have easily been the gods laughing. That very split second in time where the scales balanced despite what each side held.  
  
Aoi’s body slammed into the assassin’s with a painful crunch, his shoulder blade crushing in against the man’s ribcage in a fierce tackle.  
  
For a moment it felt as if the entire ordeal had been for nothing. The assassin didn’t move, didn’t sway under the pressure of Aoi’s weight. Nothing. They were just stuck there, locked in a strange parody of a hug with neither surrendering ground to the other.  
  
And then it happened. A moment later like the reeling slap from the shock of the onslaught and the assassin was finally moving.  
  
They staggered backwards, Aoi pressing down on the other man and using his advantage for all it was worth. The gun remained between them, Aoi’s hand wrapped over the slide in exactly the same way that Ruki had told him never to hold a piece. It kept the assassin’s trigger finger at bay though, and Aoi made a point of pressing the gun to the side. Doing that forced the man’s hand backwards and at an odd angle. The last thing Aoi really wanted was to be shot at point blank.  
  
A loud grunt came from slightly taller man and Aoi felt the thud of the railing pressing against the assassin’s back. For a moment they tipped, both so tangled together that neither had the time nor means to get a proper hand or foot hold.  
  
Predicting the worse, Aoi tried to get his mind to focus, to jump forward in time and work out what exactly the assassin was thinking.  
  
Hands found their way to Aoi’s hips and he had a startling moment of clarity as the assassin continued to lean backwards. The man was going to try and throw Aoi over. While the last thing Aoi wanted was to get shot at point blank, falling to his death in the first few seconds of the fight was right up there on his list of things to avoid. He could hear it now, the berating rant of an insult that Ruki would give him once he worked out how Aoi had died. That thought alone was overly disturbing and was all the encouragement Aoi needed to break the hitman’s intentions.  
  
Digging his heels into the floor, Aoi renewed his struggles with the man’s gun while slipping his other arm up and under the hitman’s shoulder. The action grounded him, pressing him against the other man in a mockery of affection that wasn’t easy to break. He moved one foot, slipping it between the assassins legs and thus hooking his own behind the other man’s. If the assassin wanted to throw Aoi, then Aoi would be taking the man with him.  
  
Almost instantly the pressure on Aoi’s hips subsided and Aoi breathed a small sigh of relief. Apparently the man had understood the reasons behind Aoi’s little snuggle session and had decided that both of them falling wasn’t worth it.  
  
The assassin pushed off from the railing, the extra leverage giving him the upper hand. Aoi stumbled back, still somehow locked together with the other man as he tried to remember the lay of the upstairs club. The last thing he wanted was to trip on one of the couches or stools and give the assassin the opening he was no doubt looking for.  
  
As they stumbled, Aoi’s right hand closed over the assassin’s right wrist again, keeping the gun aimed towards the floor. Don’t trip and don’t get shot. They were the only things on the top of Aoi’s to do list and the only two things that he could concentrate on.  
  
The blow to the face stunned Aoi, taking him totally by surprise. He was so focused on keeping his footing and his body hole-free that he didn’t notice the man extracting one hand from the tangle of limbs. Nor did he notice the balled fist and the draw back until it was far too late. His head snapped painfully backwards, his cheek bursting into a blaze of pain and for a moment his vision went almost white.  
  
There was a huge difference between boxing at the gym and actually getting slugged in the face. Aoi could feel it, burning red and hot as his skin flared. Even just the strain that it had put on his neck was wholly enlightening. All those times sparring, all those hits and points he had won with the safety of strapped knuckles meant nothing.  
  
Shaking his head slightly, Aoi blinked his vision clear just in time to dodge another blow. He had to lean back impossibly far in order to have the clenched fist swing overhead but considering the throb of his cheek, he gathered it was well worth the effort.  
  
Twisting his body and stepping outwards, Aoi kept his hold on the other man’s arm. He yanked it in a way that trapped the limb between his arm and body before switching his grip so that his left hand was wrapped around the assassin’s wrist.  
  
A quick, pointed jab of his right elbow snapped the assassin’s head back. Aoi felt a crunching grind and a sharp jolt of pain as the man’s teeth connected with his elbow.  
  
The assassin’s finger squeezed in the struggle, setting off a round of gunshots into the floor. Aoi almost jumped at the loud echo of the sound. The recoil of the shots saw the assassin’s arm jolting violently against Aoi’s body and hacker had to struggle to keep his grip. It reminded him of a hose, lose and convulsing as the streams of water hissed out of the nozzle and there was Aoi, struggling to hold on. Any moment now; he could almost feel a heated bullet slamming through his foot, pushing skin and cracking bone as it went. Any moment now and he’d be well and truly fucked.  
  
Opting to take a risk, Aoi gripped the gunman’s hand as tight as he could before slamming his knee upwards. It brought his leg closer to the firing gun, but at least he would be doing something. If he got shot at least it would be for a reason and not due to his inability to get his feet out of the way of the speeding bullets.  
  
The pain wasn’t anything like the blow to the face, but it was enough to hurt like hell. When the gun didn’t fall from the man’s hand, Aoi repeated the process, crushing the assassin’s fingers between his knee and the gun that he gripped so tightly. On the third try the gun fell from the man’s hand and clattered to the floor.  
  
The assassin hissed in annoyance behind him and Aoi suddenly felt the man’s weight bearing down on his back. As far as Aoi could tell, the man was just trying to break him, to get him on the ground where it would no doubt be a hell of a lot easier to end the fight. However, as soon as the taller gunman began his struggle, Aoi formed a plan in his head.  
  
Leaning over as far as he could, Aoi kicked backwards at the man’s legs while pulling on his arm. Just like in practice, the assassin stumbled and ended up fully on Aoi’s back. The weight was intense, threatening to flatten his already tired body to the floor in merely a moment, but sheer determination saw Aoi struggling onward. He dropped his shoulder, tucked his head into his chest and flung the man forward.  
  
Aoi hadn’t really planned it, but the motion of flipping the man over his shoulder sent the assassin straight into a low set stool.  
  
The man’s back arched dangerously over the small puff and a loud groan escaped the hitman’s throat as he slowly rolled on and onto all fours. Even in the dim light Aoi could see the way the man’s eyebrows drew together in pain and shock.  
  
Stepping forward, Aoi seized the opportunity that the assassin’s confusion created and kicked the gun further out of reach. As soon as he’d done that, he felt weak and vulnerable. He almost missed the feeling of a gun in his hands and the strange sort of safety that it supplied. Even if he was half terrified of the strange metal contraptions.  
  
Then again, the apparently more intelligent side of him acted as some form of reassurance. Aoi with a gun was just as good as handing the weapon back over to the assassin. It was far better that neither of them benefited from the addition of the firearm; far better for Aoi’s health that was.  
  
Inwardly he wanted to cheer, to flail around a little bit to mark his rather stressful success. While he had been alarmingly calm through everything thus far, there was that small little part of him that still outright refused to believe that he was getting out of this alive. A tiny voice that was easy to ignore at times, it squeaked out its fears and doomsday endings from the back of his mind. Maybe the adrenaline was wearing off, or his resolve was shattering as the horrific scene of death in the restaurant slipped from his memory, but now that voice was loud and clear and spreading the infectious seeds of doubt.  
  
Despite the obvious advantages of getting the gun away from the man, Aoi was seriously starting to question his own sanity. Here he was in a sealed off building, on the top floor, facing down a man that had been trained and paid to kill countless people. And there was Aoi. Just Aoi. Plain old him. A nerd with the gift of escaping danger by running.  
  
As said killer sprung back to his feet and stepped towards him, Aoi realised that this no longer sounded like such a good plan.

  
  
*****

  
  
Ruki ducked down low again. The hollow sound of his empty gun weighed him down and drowned his emotions. While he hadn’t been expecting to shoot the assassin through pure luck or even skill, he hadn’t thought he’d go through so many damn bullets so quickly. The guy was like a ghost, fleeting between the slugs and hiding in the shadows as if they could physically protect him. Ruki was damn sure he hadn’t even scratched the guy yet.  
  
In his defence, he was yet to be hit either, but oddly enough that wasn’t much of an assurance. He was officially out of ammo on this side of the bar, which meant he would have to venture back out into the openness of the club if he wanted more.  
  
Behind him, on the other side of the counter, he could hear the man’s steps. His rational mind told him that it was ridiculous considering how loud the music was but still, he swore each step the man made was intensified. A solid, steady pounding of feet against the floor, bringing them together.  
  
Maybe it was just fear that brought on his sudden clear hearing. Fear embodied by the fact that he could still see the man in the water jug, inching closer and closer to the mouth of the bar.  
  
Kneeling there, Ruki ignored the throb of his busted knee and tried to focus on a plan of action. He was a sitting duck behind the bar, unarmed and unable to run. It was clear enough that he couldn’t stay there. But with the man approaching his only easy exit point it left him somewhat struggling for ideas.  
  
As he’d been trained, Ruki had been counting the fired bullets but in the heat of the moment it wasn’t something that he wanted to rely on. His count had got the assassin empty and Ruki was yet to see the other man reload. Then again, all it took was one bullet. One miscount, one of his own slugs counted wrong and it would all be over. Running at the guy was definitely out of the question.  
  
And so Ruki waited.  
  
It was all he could do. The man would have to get inside the bar to be able to shoot him and if it came to that then Ruki hoped he’d be able to trip the assassin. That was at the very least.  
  
The imaginary sound of footsteps continued and Ruki watched the gunman enter into the confined space. Gripping his gun as if it alone could save him, bulletless as it was, Ruki tried to look calm as the assassin approached. He should have been freaking out – he was well aware of that – but the fact that the man hadn’t shot him yet hinted at a chance. Just a small one, but that was all that Ruki needed. The man passed through the opening in the bar, keeping a wide distance and his gun trailed on Ruki at all times. Ruki could only sit there and watch, his mind racing with possibilities and their shortcomings.  
  
The man held the gun strange as he approached, his hand covering the slide. Ruki’s mind raced, trying to work out exactly what it was that he was seeing. Either this guy couldn’t shoot for shit or he was hiding something.  
  
Ruki ignored the faint tugging of a smile that threatened to stretch across his lips. The assassin was empty and he was trying to hide the empty chamber under the slide with his hands.  
  
The assassin made a jerking motion with his gun, signalling Ruki to stand and Ruki played along. There wasn’t much he could do from the floor – the assassin should have known that – so this was the perfect opportunity to get the playing field levelled once again.  
  
Acting as scared as he could – which really wasn’t that much of a stretch given his current circumstances – Ruki rose slowly to his feet, grimacing at the exertion it put on his knee.  
  
As Ruki watched, the assassin’s hand moved from the slide. The empty chamber was revealed, the plot exposed and in the open. The gunman’s hands moved quickly, his left shooting out towards Ruki, aiming for the throat.  
  
For a minute it all came down to who was faster. A swift race of both bodies and minds as each man struggled to keep up with the other’s actions.  
  
Ruki spun the gun in his grip, flipping it so that his trigger finger was still in the trigger guard, but so he held the weapon by the slide. The hitman’s hand closed around the scruff of his neck, yanking him forward and Ruki used the motion to aid his attack. Tightening his grip, he drew his arm back and slammed the butt of the gun into the man’s face. The assassin stumbled back, his grip broken as blood exploded from his nose and a grunt forced its way out of his mouth. Ruki stepped forward, taking the offered opportunity for what it was and flung his arm out wide. This time the pistol whipped across the assassin’s face, colliding with his cheek and snapping the man’s head to the side.  
  
The guy was like one of those little ninja assault guys that Ruki had seen in bad television movies. He took the force of the hit in his stride and bent further back with it. The hitman had long since dropped his gun, and Ruki watched, almost fascinated, as the man’s hands rose to his shoulders. He twisted his wrists so that his palms were facing his back and in a display of grace that Ruki envied, the man landed on the ground. Instead of a thump, it was a light spring, his shoulders and hands catching his fall and rocking him steadily back upright even as Ruki watched.  
  
What Ruki wasn’t expecting was the assassin’s leg to lash out as he fell.  
  
Pain exploded in Ruki’s knee and it took him a good few seconds to realise that he was crying out in agony. All too suddenly Ruki swayed dangerously on his feet as his knee again just refused to function. Gripping the back bench of the bar, Ruki struggled to stay upright on his good leg while fighting to get control of his breathing.  
  
That second of pain was all it took. Before he knew it the assassin was bearing down on him, slamming him against the bar in a way that had Ruki coughing. His stomach bent around the counter as both knees pressed into the glass of the low fridge. His head slammed into the tiled wall, narrowly missing a glass shelf only due to his height.  
  
Gasping in shock and pain, Ruki thrashed against the other man. Finally, seeing that the other’s grip was impossible to break, Ruki lifted his groggy head and flung it backwards. He felt a splitting flash of pain across the back of his skull as it pounded against the other’s jaw. Wrenching his right arm free, Ruki drove his elbow into the assassin’s side before twisting his body and aiming for the man’s head again.  
  
Breathing hard, Ruki pushed himself off the bar enough to turn around. The assassin was staggering back, his hands pressed to his face and his eyes squeezed closed. Despite that, Ruki couldn’t find it in himself to rejoice. The pounding in his head was louder than the music, the steady, painful throb drowning out even the over tuned bass. His eyes were blurring and no amount of blinking seemed to clear that strange haze that lingered at the edges of his vision.  
  
As he watched, somehow completely frozen, the assassin righted himself and hissed. There was a flash of blonde hair and a rush of air against Ruki’s skin and then he was getting lifted up and driven backwards again.  
  
Ruki’s back smashed against the wall before his thighs and behind landed on the back-bar. Grunting in pain, Ruki thrashed in the tight hold, trying to dislodge the man’s arms. The assassin had a grip that stuck like glue. All sticky and painful against his skin and made even worse the more he struggled. The assassin held on like a possessed man trying to keep hold of a lucky charm and nothing seemed to dislodge the man, not even Ruki’s kicking and thrashing.  
  
It was sheer instinct that saw Ruki reaching backwards, his hands fumbling over the shelves and the objects they housed.  
  
Grabbing two bottles, Ruki gave them a quick spin over his hands, altering his grip so he held them by the necks. Without any warning, he brought both of them smashing down onto either side of the assassin’s head. They shattered into a shower of coloured glass and liquor, drenching the both of them while drawing a startled yelp out of the blonde.  
  
Ruki seized the opportunity and used his feet to kick the assassin away. The other man stumbled backwards, the shock of the blows to the head keeping him off balance until he hit the bar. Feeling his muscles complain and scream in protest, Ruki slid down from his perched position on the back-bar and used his hands to help pull him along. The bar was getting too dangerous a place for them to be so Ruki started heading to the small door that cut it off from the rest of the club. Confined spaces were not a good idea.  
  
He got about half way before the assassin next attacked. In all honesty Ruki wasn’t expecting to get as far as he did, so he considered it quite the achievement.  
  
“Fuck,” Ruki yelped as his ankle was yanked out from under him. His hands flew out, desperately seeking anything to stop his fall and coming out wanting. All too quickly he was diving face first into the rubber mat, his jaw slamming against the floor, spreading pain and filling his mouth with blood as his teeth sunk into the flesh of his cheek.  
  
He clawed desperately at the floor as the man started to drag him backwards. With no easy finger holds, Ruki felt himself sliding across the slicked floor while broken glass ripped into his skin.  
  
As the assassin got him close, Ruki twisted violently in his grasp and flipped himself on to his back. He was rewarded with the stinking crush of glass biting into his back, but he promptly ignored it. With his hands pressed against the floor, he shimmied himself closer to the assassin, catching him completely off guard, before attacking. His knee bent as his foot slid across the alcohol soaked floor and before he knew it, he was slamming his knee into the bottom of the assassin’s jaw. The force was enough to snap the man’s head back and Ruki used the distraction to get his other ankle free. Using his bad leg, he forced it to bend until he was able to slam the heel of his shoe into his attacker’s chest.  
  
Ruki didn’t pause long enough to register the jarring pain of his wounded knee. He was up in an instant, hobbling along and out of the bar as fast as he could. The assassin was still in shock, groaning on the floor and Ruki took the time to pull the strange fragments of his quickly forming plan together.  
  
Pausing for only a moment at the cupboard near the entrance to the bar, Ruki pulled out a box of matches and a bottle of rum while slamming the bar’s gate closed. There was no lock or catch, but it would be enough to slow the man down if he wasn’t expecting it.  
  
Ruki’s hands found the bar counter and he rounded the L bend. He came at it like a patron, aiming for the centre of the bar near the cash till while constantly fumbling with the box of matches.  
  
It felt like eternity before he was there, standing on the opposite side of the counter to where the assassin was slowly pulling himself to his feet. He finally had the match in his hand, held between trembling, blood covered fingers. With the box in his other, Ruki set his jaw tightly as the assassin finally looked up to meet his eyes.  
  
Ruki didn’t smile, didn’t sneer or frown as their eyes locked together. The only perceivable movement was the way his hand flicked passed his other fist and the soft glow of the match as it burst into flames.  
  
Ruki made sure that he had the blonde assassin’s attention before he dropped it onto the bar. It flickered worryingly, the air from the fall almost extinguishing the flame and for a moment Ruki thought it was all over.  
  
That was until it finally caught. Time stood still, a paused moment when the match laid there, the wood burning away and turning dark as the liquid soaked the small matchstick.  
  
And then it erupted. The flames spread through the alcohol in a blue wave, rising until they were leaping out of the grated drain. As the flames roared, creating a heated barrier between them, Ruki grabbed the bottle of rum. The assassin watched him, his eyes cold and calculating before finally ticking over to the obvious conclusion.  
  
Ruki smiled and the man started to move.  
  
Holding it by the base, he smashed the neck of the bottle against the side of the bar before tossing it casually in the assassin’s direction. The broken bottle spun in the air, spilling its flammable liquid as it went and Ruki hobbled backwards, trying to stay out of range.  
  
As soon as the alcohol reached the flames, the bar took light. Fire erupted into the air, the liquor burning before it had even fell. Flickers of flames landed on the bar floor, setting the previously spilt liquor alight until the entire floor was a glow of red and orange.  
  
Ruki watched as the assassin bolted for the end of the bar, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he tried to outrun the flames. Ruki idly wondered what would happen once the remaining bottles on the backbar answered to the fire.  
  
However well planned, Ruki could already see that the fire wouldn’t be the assassin’s demise. He was moving to quickly though even as he did, Ruki could see patches of his jacket starting to glow as the alcohol soaked fabric got too close to the fire.  
  
Moving in the opposite direction, Ruki avoided the flames and grabbed the large wooden pestle he kept there for grinding fruit for cocktails. Ignoring the assassin’s struggles with the gate, Ruki started hobbling backwards, pestle in hand, towards the DJ’s booth. He had another gun stashed in there which would no doubt prove handy.  
  
From the direction of the bar, Ruki listened as the assassin cursed and hissed, his hands fumbling with the gate while trying to pat out the flames burning his clothes. Apparently the bastard hadn’t been expecting that at all. Spinning the pestle in his hands, Ruki smiled once again and prepared himself for round two.  
  
*****  
  
The club was quiet. Dark and silent and it gave Atsushi the creeps.  
  
He and Toru were sitting in an unmarked squad car, a block back and just watching the place. He guessed it could be called a stake out if anyone wanted to be technical but at the moment that sort of stuff was far from his mind. There were no snacks nor coffee though Atsushi was pretty sure he’d sell his soul for the latter, all things considered.  
  
The club’s entrance was on the opposite side of the building, hidden from view but their location gave them an excellent glimpse of the back door and the alleyway behind. With the club placed as it was, there was no safe way to stake out the front. Not without being seen and running the risk of tipping off either side. That was a risk that Atsushi wasn’t willing to take. This had to end and he was determined for the showdown to happen here. If keeping this war off the streets meant that they had to park further away with a hindered view, then so be it.  
  
Again, the car’s radio buzzed, breaking the silence and causing Toru to flinch beside him. For the last hour now the call for reinforcements had been echoing through the unmarked car, despite the purposefully subdued volume. It had started with an explosion, a fire ripping apart an illegal housing building not far from here. Toru’s eyes had sparked at that, his jaw going tight and his hands fidgeting. Atsushi clearly read the question in the man’s eyes; where they meant to report to that call.  
  
Atsushi had shaken his head, answering the silent question with a voiceless response. While Atsushi wasn’t too sure how much faith to put in his anonymous tip, he was at least determined to see this through no matter what way it ended.  
  
Shortly after backup was called again. This time to a restaurant that Atsushi mentally placed somewhere between the fire and their current location. Shots fired, the voice had called it in. Shots fired and a civilian down. Help needed.  
  
It was getting close. Whatever was going on out there was slowly moving towards the club, the lines of the battle being pushed and surrendered as they went. It was only a matter of time now and Atsushi was counting the minutes in his head.  
  
Somewhere in the distance a car roared into life and Atsushi resisted the urge to tell Toru to push their own car into drive. It could be anything, simply someone who had parked on the street while running errands. It didn’t have to be related to this bloody war.  
  
That was when he heard the smash. Toru turned wide, clear eyes at him, his mind an open book as he questioned the sound. Atsushi frowned and automatically found himself pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. That was exactly the sort of sound that he didn’t want to hear. The possibilities were simply too great; was it part of the fight, a planned tactic to aid either of the sides, or simply an accident? Worse still, was it another casualty claimed by this conflict?  
  
Atsushi started to count to ten in his head. Slowly at first and yet even his level thinking couldn’t keep the count spaced and even as his heart sped up.  
  
It all came down to one thing, one tiny little choice that could possibly tip the scales in a way beyond rectifiable. Stay and wait, play it out and see what happened, or go and investigate.  
  
Thankfully by the time Atsushi’s mind raced to nine, the decision was made for him. Toru’s head whipped to the side again, an open-mouthed expression of shock plastered on his features, silently questioning Atsushi, seeking clarification.  
  
It had been muffled and quiet but there was no mistaking the sound of gunfire.  
  
“Call for backup,” Atsushi ordered. They had already been over this, what Toru was meant to say in order to override the other desperate radio pleas for help.  
  
Toru grabbed the radio and started flicking to the correct emergency frequency as Atsushi jumped out of the car. Eyes wild, he searched the surrounding area before moving to the trunk and ripping it open. In the dim light, a little arsenal was revealed, hidden and safe within the dark confines of their vehicle. Atsushi had the feeling that they were going to need everything that they could get their hands on and so he wasted no time in pulling out more than the normal police issue of weapons.  
  
“They’re on their way,” Toru said as he came to stand beside the detective. Atsushi could tell that the younger man was nervous. He was rocking on his feet, his hands clasped that tightly together that his knuckles were turning white; it was a colour that matched his overly pale face.  
  
“Good.”  
  
“Shouldn’t we wait for backup to arrive?”  
  
Atsushi shook his head and passed Toru the last gun. Closing the trunk as quietly as he could, the older officer strapped the holster over the one he already wore and pulled the belt in tight. “No time.”  
  
“But-”  
  
Toru’s words were cut off by a loud bang reverberating through the night. Both stopped, their eyes wide as they looked towards the club. It sounded like the place was falling in on itself, roaring with pain as the battle raged within.  
  
“We want them alive,” Atsushi said, his tone leaving no room for objection. Toru nodded mutely though Atsushi could read the questions in the others eyes. “The hacker is a wanted felon. We need to know how he got into the SSD, even if it means cutting a deal with him so we can better safeguard our information. The man with him is the son of a dead Yakuza boss. If we can get him under these circumstances than he can save his own skin by leading us deeper into the crime syndicate of the city.”  
  
Toru listened, his head nodding in a way that told Atsushi the kid was brighter then his current fearful state indicated. Atsushi knew that Toru understood especially now that the words were spoken. Maybe it was a case of just hearing them out loud, for Toru seemed to calm himself, slight colour returning to his face as his jaw once again set determinedly.  
  
Atsushi nodded once before leading the way towards the club.  
  
Gun at the ready, Atsushi scurried down the street in a crouched jog. Knees bent, he kept his head low and his back facing the high wooden fence of the building next to the club. Years of training saw the motion coming effortlessly and as he moved, he continued to strain his hearing for any possible dangers. He ignored the sounds from the club, the gunfire and the unmistakable sound of music blearing and instead concentrated on his surroundings. Nothing moved. There were no sounds  
  
Granted that the general populace would have fled at the sound of gunfire, Atsushi still found the silence unnerving. The nothingness of it all. It was like the night was dead or petrified in fear as a predator stalked through the shadows. Atsushi allowed himself a small shiver before clearing his mind and setting his concentration.  
  
There was a section of rotted fence near the border of the two buildings and Atsushi opted to duck through. The other side was dark and hidden from the view of the street, but that hardly bothered him. A slight scuffle and a hiss was all he could hear as Toru followed his lead. They were in knee high, unkempt weeds that had pushed through the cement in the corner of the parking lot.  
  
Crouching even lower, Atsushi made a dash across the large concrete yard. He could hear the slight scuffle of Toru’s boots as the younger man followed along behind him. The space was lit by one street light, flickering slightly and telling of the pending death of the bulb. Wide white lines stretched across the dark bitumen, marking car parks and no standing zones as well as the slope up to the back door. The car park was a good meter and a half lower then the building, built into a natural sloping hill and thus the dock was raised with stairs on one side and a ramp on the other. The light above the back door was black and empty, the bulb long since shattered and never replaced.  
  
Stopping at the loading dock, Atsushi pressed his back to the concrete slab and glanced over at Toru. He was looking paler than usual; his eyes squinted together in concentration as he came almost soundlessly up to Atsushi’s right. He couldn’t blame the younger man for his ashen colour. The sounds erupting from the club were worrying, speaking of the deadly game being played out within.  
  
Again Atsushi was stuck with how the last few days had played out. It was one hell of an introduction to life on the force and tonight was about to take the cake. It was one thing to work long hours piecing something together, following clues and hopping between crime scenes, but a sting like this… most cops spent years on the force before anything like this came about and Atsushi couldn’t help but feel for the kid. After all this Toru would get a better insight to the trials of being a cop, better than any book could explain. Then it was just a matter of whether he could handle it or not. Would he keep going like Atsushi had or would he throw in the towel and turn his back like so many others. It was a question that only time would tell and Atsushi distracted himself by taking in his surroundings instead.  
  
Their flanks worried Atsushi. To either side of the club the loading dock disappeared in the hazy darkness of two narrow alleyways. From experience Atsushi knew that the one of the left stopped at a dead end, filled with dumpsters and broken creates while the one of the right snaked right around to the front of the club. Apparently the multiple times Ruki had evaded being arrested had at least paid off a little by leaving Atsushi with a pretty good layout of the club and its surrounds.  
  
First things first though and that was working out how to get in without making a scene. Sure, he could probably break down the door, but that would likely alert those within and that was a risk Atsushi didn’t want to take. Picking the lock was the best option but that would take time and with those dark corners it would be even more nerve-wracking.  
  
Glancing at Toru, Atsushi stepped closer so that he could talk quietly to the other man. “I’m going to attempt the door,” he said. Toru was nodding before Atsushi had even finished, his eyes darting to the sides and Atsushi knew the younger man had gotten the point.  
  
“I’ll keep an eye out,” Toru said back affirmatively. As Atsushi turned and took the steps two at a time, he saw Toru slide into a defensive stance, his eyes darting to the sides and his hand on his gun.  
  
The detective covered the distance to the door easily though he didn’t allow his haste to deter from caution. He kept he eyes moving, seeking out anything unusual within the dark shadows of the back of the club as he slipped his gun back into its holster. He knew that through this door it was mainly storage space, large fridges and cold rooms as well as staff facilities. Lots of dark little nooks that could hold danger.  
  
His hand reached out for the doorknob. Fingers stretching and moulding over the shape, he felt the cold metal smooth and yet grimy against his palm. It was like a marker, a small little obstacle standing between him and fate. His fingers tightened their grip and he slowly started to rotate his wrist.  
  
A slight shuffle behind him caught his attention and Atsushi’s hand paused mid turn. It was still too early to tell if the door was locked or not. Eyebrows creasing together, Atsushi paused in his actions and focused his attention on the empty lot behind him.  
  
Atsushi felt the bullet rip through his back before he heard the gun shot. For that brief moment the world completely ceased to exist. He didn’t feel his arm moving, didn’t control the way his hand pressed to the small, burning hole that had formed between his ribs. Atsushi didn’t breathe, didn’t think, didn’t move. For just that small moment, frozen in all time and space, he ceased to be anything.  
  
And then the world came smashing back down and reality hit like a hammer.  
  


*****

  
**Chapter Twenty-One Preview: **

  
  
Eyes bulging, Aoi struggled for air as he gripped at the man’s hands. It was one of those moments where thought wasn’t possible. Yes, he was aware that he was being throttled to almost certain death and yes he was aware that his back was arched dangerously over the railing but that hardly constituted as thought. That was nothing more than being conscious of his surroundings. Alert and aware of the way that he was about to die.


	23. Chapter Twenty-One – How to shoot somebody who outdrew ya…

**Chapter Twenty-One**  
How to shoot somebody who outdrew ya…

  
*****

  
  
Aoi ducked under the swing, his head and shoulders rotating backwards as the assassin’s fist swung overhead. He didn’t trick himself into believing that it was pure skill that saw him missing each strike. The assassin was getting angry, letting that fast beating emotion cloud his judgement and actions and Aoi, for once, was able to use that. He knew all about anger, all about the hazy shade of grey that such an emotion blanketed you with. He was a well versed expert and for once he was just thankful that he was the outsider, watching as they played havoc on someone else’s actions.  
  
There was no way that he could explain why he felt so level headed, why he wasn’t freaking out every time the assassin even looked at him. Somehow the dynamic had changed. There was no more running, no more reason to be scared and cower in the darkness. This was it. The end game, the grand finale and fucked if Aoi was going to gloss over it with frantic thoughts. He didn’t want his last moments on earth to be filled with horrific images of killer fish and flashes to movies he had seen and loved. That was not the way things were meant to end. Movies weren’t life and life wasn’t a comical fairytale. It was cold and hard and fucking unrelenting and for the first time, Aoi was fine with that. Hell, he was even prepared to deal with it.  
  
His momentary freak out from before was done, that little voice again being ignored as the heat of the moment swept him up. There wasn’t room for thought let alone time to listen to the fears and doubts of his mind. His body was functioning purely on impulse and reaction now. Each time the assassin moved, Aoi moved to mirror it, to dodge it or to strike at a weakness. Aoi couldn’t even remember the last time that he had blinked. His eyes were dry and sore yet the idea of having his lids close even for a moment was enough to send a shiver down his spine. He couldn’t afford that. Not now.  
  
The assassin’s other arm flew up, catching Aoi off guard as he felt a second hand wrap around his limb. For the last few moments they had been involved in something of a stupid, pointless arm wrestle. Without a table or proper lines of betting, they had simply being trying to dislodge each other while attempting to keep the other close enough that no weapons could be pulled.  
  
It was stupid in a way and Aoi had the momentary flash of them as oversized apes, pounding out a drum roll on their chests while trying to assess their dominance.  
  
The arm lock had left them floundering around, feet scuffling as each man tried to trip the other. For the most part they managed to avoid stumbles though that was probably more by luck than skill. However, Aoi was aware that his back was now to the banister even though it was a good few feet away. Still, that made him nervous and caused him to shuffle to the right in an attempt to turn their scuffling around slightly.  
  
Aoi could see no way out of the tricky situation. The assassin had a grip that was a force within its self; crushing and bruising, it sent pain through Aoi’s arms that seemed to converge in his mind.  
  
Struggling against the grip, Aoi tried to twist his arms free. It proved to be fruitless though somehow he was sure he had already known that would be the case. The man’s grip was just too strong – almost unnaturally so – and against his better judgement Aoi found his mind slipping into the supernatural world of movies. Vampires and wolfmen and god only knew what else.  
  
Grunting at himself, he battled his mind back into the present and focused his attention on trying to get free. Leaning backwards, he forced his arms to try and widen, hoping that it would help dislodge the other’s hands. It proved futile and as pain spread along his limbs, Aoi caught the slight glimmer of something in the assassin’s eyes.  
  
The warning came a moment too late.  
  
The man’s forehead slammed against Aoi’s and instantly the room went black.  
  
Whether he actually did pass out or his eyes merely closed for a moment, the next thing Aoi knew, he was getting kneed in the stomach. He lurched forward, doubling over in pain before there was even more agony as the hitmans’ boot collided with Aoi’s middle. His mouth gaped open, air filling the crevice and yet completely unable to reach his lungs. Gasping like the fish that he had come to fear, Aoi wrapped his arms around his stomach protectively as he battled the want to fall to the floor. Even through the pain he knew that it would be pointless if he collapsed now. It would be all over. The end game pulled to a staggering finale that Aoi wasn’t happy with.  
  
Struggling through the pain, Aoi kept his knees bent but worked at first straightening his torso. Slowly he started to get himself under control, his mind kicking back in with full force. That within itself was overly painful.  
  
Staggering backwards, Aoi felt the cold press of the railing chill his lower back. His hands instantly turned, his fingers wrapping tightly around the top bar as he felt himself start to tip. With the force of momentum and the shaking in his legs, he had a blind moment of panic when he thought he was about to topple straight over the barrier and plummet to his death once again. This whole upper level balcony thing really didn’t seem to be sitting right with him at the moment.  
  
Again time seemed to stand still as he tipped back and forth precariously. It didn’t help that he was still gasping for air, trying to get his pained lungs working again before his head became even lighter.  
  
As he struggled, Aoi watched the assassin. Watched that smug grin spread across his hard features. Watched as he took a step closer, all confident and cocky self-assured.  
  
Aoi waited. It was all he could do. He had to get his breathing in check else he wouldn’t be doing a hell of a lot of anything. It was unnerving leaning there and feeling weak while the man approached. Aoi hadn’t been anything close to a superhero in his time, but normally there was at least something going through his head at a time like this. Some form of brewing plan that would give him a chance of self-preservation, even if it was just close your eyes and run.  
  
Then again, maybe the lack of thought was a good thing. It was oddly nice inside his head when he didn’t have his warring voices battling for reason over action, and idiocy over intelligence.  
  
Not bothering to give the action too much thought, Aoi sprung forward and launched himself at the man once again and simply hoped for the best.  
  
The assassin hadn’t been expecting it but he recovered alarmingly quickly. Aoi only had a moment of surprise on his side, his hands grabbing at the man’s shoulders while he tried to push him back. His full strength wasn’t in it though; his lungs still burnt while he tried to breathe and his light head made movement wholly unappealing.  
  
It could have been the fogginess of his thoughts that allowed the assassin to get the upper hand, or it could have even been the fact that he just wasn’t strong enough. The idea that he could best this man in a fight suddenly seemed like the most asinine thing in the whole word, especially as the assassin’s hands moved like lightening. Somehow they managed to avoid Aoi’s grasping attack and slip unhindered to Aoi’s chest. From there it was simply just a case of a forceful push and before Aoi knew it, the hitman had a death grip on his throat.  
  
It all happened so fast that Aoi wasn’t even sure that he was being strangled until a few moments after the fact. Even as the taller man’s hands closed in around his throat, cutting off his ability to breath, Aoi still somewhat thought that it was just a result of the blow to the chest before.  
  
Then it hit him. He felt his eyes expand in a moment of panic, his throat contracted as the desperation of the situation kicked in. It was suddenly life altering, threatening stuff and he wasn’t even sure how the hell it had all happened. His previous attack turned more into a flailing as his hands and arms tried to find something to hold onto that would allow him to push the man away.  
  
Finally grabbing the man’s shoulder, Aoi pushed backwards, struggling for control as the hands tightened around his throat. It did him no good as the man simply tightened his grip and pushed back. Whether he liked it or not, Aoi was the weaker of the two and all too quickly he found his feet shuffling over the floor as the hitman drove him towards the railing once again.  
  
Eyes bulging, Aoi struggled for air as he gripped at the man’s hands. It was one of those moments where thought wasn’t possible. Yes, he was aware that he was being throttled to almost certain death and yes he was aware that his back was arched dangerously over the railing but that hardly constituted as thought. That was nothing more than being conscious of his surroundings. Alert and aware of the way that he was about to die.  
  
Grasping at nothing in particular, Aoi felt the silky touch of hair against his palm and the sticky wetness of sweat.  
  
And there it was. The moment in the fight where opportunity struck. A small opening that both men had silently been praying for, and for whatever reason, it was presented to Aoi. All gift-wrapped and held together with a shiny fucking bow.  
  
Within all his flailing attempts to get the man off him, Aoi had somehow managed to get one arm on the assassin’s shoulder and the other on his head. It was at that point of time when thought returned to his pain clouded mind.  
  
All that reminded now was the decision as to whether Aoi was capable of taking what was given to him or if he would balk in the face of chance.  
  
Normally it would have taken him hours to agonize over the pros and cons, each and every thought flooding his mind in a way that had him going in circles around what was right and wrong. Movies would come to mind, great scenes of trials and tribulations and the after effects of such actions. Death and its consequences, law and criminal actions weighed up against the values of justice and an eye for an eye.  
  
That was what would normally go through his head and fuck, Aoi was sure he’d somehow relate the whole damn thing to fish by the end of it.  
  
But he didn’t even think. Not this time. He didn’t think of anything. He had the ability of thought, the nagging feeling that perhaps this, above everything else in his life, was something that he should contemplate for hours. Yet he didn’t.  
  
Aoi reached out, adjusting his grip on the man’s shoulder and head and flicked his wrist. He pushed his way past the slight resistance as the spine protested at the angle he was forcing the assassins head into and then all resistance was gone with a snap. The head flopped to the side and Aoi found himself struggling to keep the body upright as it went limp and heavy.  
  
Just like that the assassin fell.  
  
Rational thought told him that it shouldn’t have been so easy. That to snap someone’s neck took some form of strength and skill but such contemplations were quickly overrun with the more fantastical spiels of mixed up logic and fate. Of course it was easy for him. He had only spent every afternoon at the gym for the last year and a bit, building himself up and training for a moment that, at the time, he’d never even dreamt about.  
  
This was that moment. This was why he had gone day after day despite the protesting of his muscles. This was why he had allowed himself to be bullied and yelled at, taunted and pushed into shape by his trainer.  
  
Everything led to this moment.  
  
The hands around Aoi’s throat instantly loosened, air being granted as he greedily sucked in a deep breath. The assassin crumbled to the ground in a lifeless heap and Aoi, for once, didn’t need any reaffirmation that he was dead. There was no getting back up from something like that. No life, no movement, no horror movie surprises.  
  
Just dead. Simple, easy and over; the death of a human.  
  
It didn’t even hit Aoi like he thought it would. There was no change in his being, he didn’t feel like he was going to be violently ill or that he would never be the same again. Nothing like that at all. He’d just killed a man and in all honesty, all he wanted was a smoke. Maybe a cold beer.  
  
Maybe it was because it wasn’t his first kill. Maybe it had something do with the way he had felt while he calmly mixed that drink for his rotten father. Perhaps that had changed him more then he understood and thus he would never react like a decent human being when it came to death. Maybe he felt nothing because what he did was somehow righteous, like the holy striking hand of justice and god and all that other shit that Aoi didn’t overly believe in.  
  
Maybe, maybe, maybe. Aoi was getting sick of those too. There was far too many ‘maybes’ and ‘what ifs’ in his life. Movie clichés and parallels, questions and uncertainties and one confusing as fuck acquaintanceship with a short Yakuza brat. It was jumbling up in his mind, spinning around and around like debris caught up in a hurricane and Aoi was sure he was getting close to having his head just explode. His brain was getting shredded with each spin cycle his thoughts took and it was only a matter of time before he lost it completely.  
  
He resolved then and there to make a choice. This was the first step, the first taste of what he could become if he had the strength to implement the alterations.  
  
First of all, no more of this deep thinking crap; it had to go. It was overrated and more often than not just got him more and more confused. Movies were the next thing. No more for him. What was the point of living in someone else’s mind when he could be out there experiencing life for himself?  
  
Then there was the fish. He’d need to make peace with them and as stupid and paranoid as that all sounded, he had to do it for his own damn sanity. While he was sure that they held a grudge, the tales of his mass murder conveyed from lake to sea and pond to tank, there had to be ways around it. Offerings of food, a better placed aquarium. No more sushi. No more steamed fish or seafood linguini. It was a small start but maybe by showing such effort it would appease the masses.  
  
They were good changes and they left Aoi feeling rather positive as he stood above the corpse.  
  
Looking down at it, Aoi remembered the way the woman in the restaurant had reacted to the death of her husband. Was there anyone to scream and cry about this man’s passing or was he that much of a cold-hearted asshole that no one cared? What about his partner? Did the other assassin care that he had fallen, or was his only concern the fact that he had failed?  
  
Not wanting to think about it anymore, Aoi closed his eyes, his hands reaching up to run down his face. He felt the sweat and blood smudge across his skin and tried his best to ignore it. It was all incidental. None of it mattered; none of it really even existed in his mind at that point in time.  
  
The only thing that he could feel was this overwhelming sense of being alive. He had run, he had hidden, been terrified and endangered others. He had been the cause of a death and all he’d done in return was run some more.  
  
And yet here he was, standing as the proud victor above the deceased body of the very man hired to kill him.  
  
Aoi had fought and he had won. Nothing felt more real than that. Nothing.  
  
Call him crazy, call him insane or diabolically fucked up, but he was actually smiling. His hands dropped from his face, his head tilted up to stare blankly at the ceiling and his lips were curled into a grin.  
  
He had survived.  
  
And then all his self congratulating walls of approval and lies came crashing down with one sound. One strange little noise that stood out against the roar of the music and the sound of echoing gunfire and flames. Something that marked another change that needed to be implemented within his new outlook on life.  
  
Ruki screamed.

  
*****

  
Pain erupted in Atsushi’s chest, the warmth of blood contradicting the strange coldness of his hands and all too quickly for his liking, he could taste it. Metallic and sour, with an edge of bitterness, creeping up from the back of his throat and filling his mouth.  
  
“You’re too trusting.” Atsushi didn’t need to look around to see the face of the shooter. It was all he’d seen for the last few days. A warm, friendly smile, blonde hair and a well fitted suit. A face and voice to charm anyone and no doubt sent for that very reason.  
  
Atsushi’s eyes fluttered closed momentarily, the true reality of the situation sinking in. He’d been played.  
  
Turning, Atsushi couldn’t for the life of him work out why he didn’t reach for his gun. He could have – should have – at least tried to draw it. He was a fast drawer, an excellent shooter. A marksman.  
  
Yet the idea of his gun never came to him. It was just that weight on his hip, that constant reminder of what he was capable of should the occasion call for it. Some cynical part of him told him that the opportune moment was here, that it wasn’t calling for him, it was damnwell banging down the bloody door and demanding his attention. This was it.  
  
But the gun remained unclipped in his holster and Atsushi merely sighed.  
  
He was tired; he couldn’t think.  
  
Sure, it was the pain, the waves of cold chills that worked their way through his body acting in strange comparison to the warm blood that trickled from his back and chest. But there was something beyond that.  
  
There was also the long, hard days that he had just struggled through. The idea of the city turning in on itself in a whirlpool of destruction and death, fire and bullets. That had a part of it but it was only small. A little fraction of the whole that was becoming more and more clear to him with each moment that ticked by.  
  
He was tired. Legitimately, bone grindingly tired.  
  
His entire life he had fought a war against what he saw as injustice in the world. He had struggled and dragged himself forward through the sea of wrong doers and evil deeds. One step forward and fucking ten back. Politics, red tape, corruption.  
  
Now he was tired and as the warm spread of blood grew across his chest, he felt like he was ready to admit and embrace that for the first time in his life.  
  
“Do you know how many people they put through the academy every year,” Toru asked, his footsteps coming closer, “just in the _hopes_ of getting one of them close to you?” Atsushi could hear the smirk in his tone, pick it out of the normally friendly voice and there was no need in asking who ‘they’ were. Atsushi had made more than his fair share of enemies within the world of organized crime. It was only a matter of time before ‘they’, or one of their moles, managed to catch up to him. Truthfully Atsushi was just surprised that it had taken this long.  
  
“Five people, Atsushi. Five. That’s how many I had to kill to get to you first. In the academy, in the squad…” Toru placed his hand over his heart, his head tilting to the side with the all too familiar flick of his fringe, “Didn’t you ever stop to wonder what the hell happened to your last partner? I must say, it was pretty weird to first off the guy and then clean his desk.”  
  
Atsushi’s stomach churned at the words.  
  
“I’m just glad that they all failed. It wouldn’t have been as… poetic if some random gang thug took you out.”  
  
Atsushi’s eyes snapped back open at Toru’s words. The pain and horrifying reality of the situation momentarily forgotten as his inquisitive cop trained mind took over. Toru was renouncing ties to the gangs. That opened up a whole new playing field and one that Atsushi’s pain filled mind wasn’t at all ready to deal with.  
  
He remembered staring at the desk of his latest partner just a few days before. Looking at the mess of paperwork and on some sick, rather twisted level relating it to the body of the cop they had found. Mutilated and dumped for all the world to see. The eyes taken, the ears severed and the tongue split in two. See no evil, hear no evil and speak no truth; the perfect example of a yakuza killing.  
  
It had been brushed off as nothing more. A stab in the dark and a wounding blow to the force. A small win for the organized crime of the city. Even Atsushi hadn’t looked into it further; gang land assassination of a cop. Sadly, these days and in these parts, that hardly stirred up a lynch squad. No one gave a shit about the cops, not even the cops cared. It was all part of the job and if you didn’t like it, then the crims paid you to keep away from it all. Easy done.  
  
But with Toru relinquishing ties to organized crime, that meant he was something else. He must have had to have studied them, watched the gangs and read their reports. Known enough to misdirect the police, using their own hatred to point them in the direction of those they hated the most. Even Atsushi had fallen for it. His previous partner had just been the next in a long line of good cops to fall into the hands of the Yakuza.  
  
Toru tossed his head to the side, flicking his fringe from his face. “You know, I didn’t lie that first time I met you. This? It really is an honour.”  
  
The second bullet didn’t hurt but it made Atsushi’s body jerk violently. The stronger, more insistent metallic taste of blood in his mouth marked the coming of the end.  
  
Body convulsing violently, Atsushi stumbled backwards, his rather numb back slamming wetly into the wall. His shoulder slumped forward, the pain becoming too much to bare and his knees cocked out as his own weight started dragging him down.  
  
The detective gnawed at his bottom lip, his eyes stuck somewhere between open and closed as he started to slowly slide down the wall. He could feel the way his jacket caught on the brickwork, hear the smearing sound of thick blood covering the bricks and the grating sensation of rough cement against the wounds.  
  
“Aw, Atsushi,” Toru continued and Atsushi looked up as the younger man’s face morphed. Gone was that kind, understanding smile and the warm twinkle in his eyes. Instead all that remained was a spark of intelligence that only came with madness.  
  
Atsushi watched Toru, trying to read him for all he was worth. The kid had to have something written on his face, had to show some form of weakness despite all his cunningness. Yet Atsushi could see nothing; nothing at all that would help him understand Toru’s rage.  
  
“My god, you’ll never change, will you?” Toru asked. “You’re still giving me that cop look, that ‘questioning behind the mask’ and all that shit.” He actually rolled his eyes and flicked his hair then, much like he had when dealing with the press. This time, however, it was hardly endearing, not at all charming and showed nothing but the important arrogance of a man who knew that he had won.  
  
“Let me make this easy for you, detective,” Toru taunted. “I don’t care about your little Yakuza kid contact and I sure as hell don’t give a damn about your hacker and some renegade assassins. Fuck the Yakuza. I hate them as much as I hate the force.”  
  
“Who then?” Atsushi was surprised even at himself as he managed to get the words out. The dark walls were starting to spin, blending into with the darkness in his mind and he knew that it wouldn’t be long now. However, the need to know and understand was strong, even while his ability and want to fight back dwindled. Just looking at Toru told Atsushi how to get the information; keep him talking, convince him to continue his stereotypical ‘evil guy’ speech.  
  
“Wow, pain must really change a person,” Toru muttered dryly, “What happened to detective Sakurai who can see a plot twist a mile away?” Toru moved a step closer, his brows knotted together in mock worry. “Are you ok, Sakurai-sama?” He ridiculed with a smirk and fucked if that wasn’t enough to make Atsushi wish he’d reached for his gun after all.  
  
“You took my father from me!” Toru hissed, his voice warping in a way that Atsushi never would have thought possible of the normally cheery man. Gone was all his innocence, his bouncy personality and sparkling eyes. All Atsushi could see there was bitterness and hatred gone sour with time.  
  
“You locked him up and your damn justice threw away the fucking key.”  
  
The look in Toru’s eyes was enough to tell Atsushi that he was at least meant to have an idea who the man was raving about. Atsushi just stared back, blank and expressionless apart from the slight bite of his lower lip. It was all he could do to ease the pain, to distract himself from it and keep his body from numbing. Though even that really wasn’t working all that well.  
  
“Think, Atsushi,” Toru spat. Atsushi tried, he really did, but at the same time half of him couldn’t care less. He had put away that many people in his life that the idea of picking a likely suspect out of the masses was nigh on laughable.  
  
“Your boss,” Toru finally substituted and the world made sense yet again. Just like that everything clicked into place, from the very beginning all the way up to the here and now. Toru’s introduction, his idealist views and actions there to distract. His study of Atsushi’s work, his remarkable knowledge of crime scene processing. Everything made sense now that Atsushi knew he was the kid of a cop.  
  
An act of vengeance for an act of vengeance. Karma in all its fantastical glory. Somewhere, fate was laughing and Atsushi was almost sure he could hear it. A deep throaty chuckle that bordered on the cackle of a mad person.  
  
That was the funny thing about corrupt cops. They hid it so damn well. Most of the time their families didn’t even know, didn’t even suspect a fucking thing. The bread winner worked hard, kept long hours and for that they brought home more each week then they were meant to. That was what the doting wife always thought; the idea of pay offs and protection money never once crossing her mind.  
  
Atsushi remembered when he had led the squad to the Superintendants house. The raid had been intense, perfectly executed due to the superiority of the planning. It had all been done under the man’s very nose too.  
  
The look on the wife’s face when the team had burst through the door was enough to haunt Atsushi even to this day. It was added to by the girls crying and screaming over their daddy and a lone male child, tall and slender standing at the top of the stairs. Motionless, silent. Watching.  
  
Come to think of it, he remembered the Superintendant talking about his prodigy kid. All he ever did was boast about his five beautiful daughters and how they would all marry well but then, towards the end of his instatement, Atsushi could recall how his mindset had slightly changed. His youngest, the only son, was doing well in school, proving himself to be something of a genius; a chip off the old block as the man liked to call him. A true child wonder and Atsushi couldn’t help but wonder why it had never come to him before. The blonde hair, the cheeky grin and those damned eyes; they were enough to win anyone over, just like Toru’s father had done for so long.  
  
“Why did his family have to pay the price for his mistake?” Toru demanded. He was getting irrational now, his hands shaking and his face a strange blend of pale and flushed all at the same time. “It killed my mother, destroyed my sisters… but I’m sure you didn’t think of that, did you? Didn’t think of the after-effects of your holy quest for justice.”  
  
Atsushi was still struggling to make sense of it all. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought something like this possible, let along tangible and likely to happen. It seemed like some strange sort of blasphemous dream. A warped nightmare that should have been thought of before and yet, all at the same time, shouldn’t have ever been conceived.  
  
It made sense, complete utter, blindingly obvious perfect sense yet it had eluded him, caught him by the wayside. That was the scary thing.  
  
Toru edged closer, the gun held out in front of him like a true cop. He was though and Atsushi had to remind himself that this kid had gone through everything any normal officer had. All for the one goal of killing him.  
  
Atsushi felt his breath start to hitch as he tried to get oxygen to his starved lungs. Without thought, his hand finally moved, edging over towards his gun but the action was slow and painful. Hardly the fast reflexes that he had always prided himself on.  
  
“Don’t bother,” Toru sighed with a shake of his head. “You’re dead anyway.” Atsushi hated that the kid was right. Besides, the movement only caused the pain to be more intense.  
  
Head lolling back, Atsushi let out a small chuckle, dry and devoid of all emotion, it was nothing more than a strange declaration of defeat. This was it, where it all came to a close. The loading dock of some club where the occupants were too busy trying to kill each other to notice the extra gunshots. He was here to try and help, to offer aide to those inside and yet he was the one utterly screwed now.  
  
In a way, it was almost poetic.  
  
And so Atsushi sat there, his back to the wall and his head resting against the bricks heavily. He watched as Toru shook his head slightly, watched as the man looked almost sad before raising his gun again. The barrel was pointed directly at Atsushi’s head and in a way, Atsushi was at least thankful that the kid was going to put him out of his misery the nice way.  
  
“It really is an honour, Atsushi-sama,” Toru said and fucked if Atsushi was sure the rookie meant it. Toru hardly sounded patronizing or even spiteful. Melancholy, that’s what it was, though Atsushi put that down to the sense of emptiness of killing your greatest enemy.  
  
Atsushi merely watched. Somehow he had managed to make peace with the idea of death a lot quicker and easier then he thought he ever would. Maybe it was the pain or the fact that he was just so sick of it all… hell it could have even been the idea that he had lived a good life, achieved as much as he could and thus the end should be peaceful. There was no point in fighting back, in resisting and struggling to overcome the younger man.  
  
Toru was right. Atsushi was already dead.  
  
Another bang and Atsushi felt no pain.  
  
No stinging of bullets, no tearing of flesh and no heat against his skin. Nothing. Toru’s eyes were cold and relentless even though there was a faint grimace on his lips. Something resigned and yet laced with the unexpected.  
  
Then, like a tree whose base had been hacked at with an axe, Toru collapsed. Stiff and rigid, he hit the ground at Atsushi’s feet, his eyes oddly lifeless as blood seeped from the back of his head.  
  
Behind where Toru had been standing was someone Atsushi never expected to see again. Gun held high and straight, arms tense and hands wrapped around the grip like a true pro, the man hardly seemed fazed by the still smoking gun nor the body.  
  
“You need to learn to pick better partners,” Wataru muttered as he remained squinting down the barrel of the gun, Toru’s body in his sight.  
  
It was such a dry comment, such a typical thing to say that Atsushi almost choked on his own laughter. It hardly helped the pain in his chest, but he couldn’t help himself. Of all the people to come dashing in to save him, his previous partner was not the one on the top of his list.  
  
Finally Wataru lowered his arms, his face softening. It didn’t change his stance though. Once a cop, always a cop no matter what life threw at you. Corruption, exile… It didn’t matter. He still gripped the gun with both hands, the weapon held at the ready against his right thigh. He walked sidewards, one foot crossing over the other as he warily approached Toru, constantly on his guard. It was the result of good training mixed with pressing determination. All it would take was a lift of his arms and he would be ready to fire again.  
  
Looking down at the man, Wataru gave the body a small nudge with his toe. Nothing. No movement, no shaky breath. Atsushi wasn’t surprised. In his time in the force, Wataru had been heralded as the best shot within the precinct, if not the entire city. His marks always went down and stayed down.  
  
Atsushi watched, rather fascinated to see the younger man work. For all his youth, Wataru somehow managed to conduct himself with an otherworldly persona of skill and logic. He knew that Wataru had always been like that, one of those people aged more than their years and most likely a result of a troubled childhood or such stereotypes, but it was clear to see that his time on the streets had hardened him further.  
  
Deciding that the threat was officially over, Atsushi signed and let his head fall back against the wall. “Wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t taken the fall.” Atsushi’s voice was thick with blood but remained unwavering.  
  
“Them’s the breaks.” Through everything, Wataru was still so damn casual. It was like nothing fazed him, nothing got under his skin.  
  
When Atsushi had heard that his previous partner had set himself up as a PI he’d laughed through the anger of Wataru’s expulsion. Something about that line of work seemed to fit the man perfectly, like a tailored glove. Cool and collected, calm and resolute; he carried himself with such unshakable conviction that in a way Atsushi was sure the younger man was at least partly damned for it.  
  
Wataru was like all those great detectives in the American movies that were taking the world by storm. A lone man in a dark city struggling for something higher than truth. That was Wataru and in Atsushi’s mind and no matter what happened, that would always be the perfect description of the other man.  
  
“I guess so.”  
  
Atsushi had always lived his life by the book, obeyed the rules and stayed clean. It was in loopholes that he succeeded, finding sneaky, fully legal ways to skirt around the rules to achieve the results he wanted.  
  
Wataru on the other hand had been the bentest good cop Atsushi had ever come across. The rules were there to be broken, the book used to bash someone’s head in. And yet, despite all that, he never once did anything for the wrong reasons. Wataru was just as intent on cleaning the city up as Atsushi was and somehow through that they had found their compromise.  
  
That made Wataru the perfect partner. Someone who shared his own search for justice and yet was willing to do almost anything to see the corrupt put behind bars. Of course, that anything also involved cooking evidence which, against his better judgement, Atsushi became well acquainted with.  
  
When they got caught it was Wataru who took the fall. Willingly too, saying that Atsushi would no doubt go further than he would within the department. Like a true hero, the shorter man had taken all the blame, endured the court cases and exiled himself to some tiny little office where he ran a barely functioning PI agency.  
  
It had only taken Atsushi two months to extract his revenge, exposing the Superintendent for the corrupt bastard that he was and the man was still rotting in a three by three cell. In a way, it probably was karma and as stupid as it sounded, Atsushi had to give Toru points for dedication and trying.  
  
Atsushi watched as Wataru lent over him, pressing his hand to the first wound. The blood was coming out fast, drenching his clothes and try as he might, the detective couldn’t looking away as Wataru’s hands were quickly coloured red.  
  
“You’ve got to find someone,” Atsushi finally said. He was enough of a realist to know that he probably didn’t have much time left. Chest wounds were nasty like that, especially in the way that it restricted his breathing and made it feel like his rib cages were slowly caving in. The detective only hoped that the desperation in his voice was evident around the pain and blood.  
  
Wataru’s eyes snapped up, dark and expressionless though there was the trace of a smile on his lips. “If you are going to say a renegade yakuza brat and a geeky hacker, then I’m way ahead of you.” Atsushi felt the pressure ease on his wound and watched as Wataru, bloody hands and all, quickly stripped off his jacket. As expected the straps of his knife holsters were clearly obvious, showing that for all the shit that had gone down, Wataru hadn’t changed in the slightest.  
  
“Figures,” Atsushi muttered dryly, implying that Wataru was both ahead of him and still exactly the same. Atsushi gathered that the pen in Wataru’s shirt pocket wasn’t exactly there for taking notes and the rather interesting belt certainly wasn’t there just for decoration.  
  
“Old habits,” Wataru shrugged as he folded up the body of his jacket, making a thick, makeshift pad. He leaned in, pressing the bulge across the bleeding wounds in Atsushi’s chest. Atsushi used Wataru as a brace, leaning forward and off the wall for the first time so that the P.I. could use the sleeves as a tie. “But I’ve been with them since before the train station. Well, with the hacker at least.”  
  
“How do you always do that?” Atsushi asked. Again he smiled around the blood, a sight that was no doubt rather horrifying, as he returned back to his reclining position.  
  
“Be better than you?” Wataru asked with a smirk. “Just comes naturally.” Wataru glanced to the door, a look of worry on his face that Atsushi didn’t miss. If he had ever had any suspicions that it wasn’t Ruki, the hacker and the assassins in the club beyond, the way Wataru looked was enough to ease that.  
  
“Hopefully,” Wataru muttered with a mirthless smirk, “Ruki didn’t kill Aoi himself, so they should be right for the moment.”  
  
“Poor guy.” Atsushi had dealt with Ruki enough to pity anyone who invoked his wrath.  
  
“Aoi can hold his own; surprisingly.” Smirking up at Atsushi while his hands continued to work, Wataru offered the other an all knowing wink. “But I’m sure you already know that.”  
  
“The train station?” Atsushi asked, his eyes narrowing.  
  
“Yep,” Wataru said with a grin. The expression was tainted by a grimace as he readjusted the jacket around Atsushi’s middle. Even so, Atsushi didn’t miss the air of pride in Wataru’s expression, as if he were taking credit for some aspect of that attack or at least the way that Aoi had acted.  
  
His wound forgotten for the moment, Atsushi’s mind began to wander. It was all finally starting to fit into place. The how’s and the why’s that he couldn’t quite put his finger on before. The assassins and the places that they had been, the trail of destruction left across the city. Really, he should have worked it out earlier. It all reeked of something that Wataru would do when cornered. Make as much of a scene as possible in as many places as possible and then use the hysteria and confusion to vanish and plan retaliation.  
  
“Alright,” Wataru sighed, “time to get you up and out of here.”  
  
Atsushi shot the man a look that Wataru should have been quite used to. Wataru liked to call it Atsushi’s ‘you’re a dolt’ look but Atsushi had never really felt the name stick. It was his ‘you have to be joking’ glare. The one that said he was not amused and that once the bullets stopped flying, they would be having a very serious, very reprimanding talk afterwards. Wataru had always laughed at that look.  
  
As expected, Wataru chuckled slightly but looked generally confused. Obviously, for all his people reading prowess, Wataru wasn’t able to see what was going on in Atsushi’s head. Atsushi couldn’t blame him, his mind was working too slowly and he hated it. Normally quick and switched on, he found it almost impossible to miss anything, but now with pain as a rather cruel mistress, he was hard pressed putting two and two together without a calculator.  
  
“Wait. Let me guess,” Atsushi groaned as Wataru pressed his hand closer to the wound and pulled on the jacket sleeves, just for good measure. “That was your office that got shot up?”  
  
With a sigh, Wataru braced his legs and helped draw Atsushi to his feet. Atsushi blinked rapidly to help keep his eyes from slipping closed as pain pressed in on his chest.  
  
“Yep,” he muttered and Atsushi could easily read the annoyance in his tone. “Fucking shit for brains assassins.”  
  
Atsushi chuckled, coughed and tasted blood. Thick and tangy, it clung to the back of his throat and coated his teeth, marking breathing as a hard chore. He staggered slightly, his arm reaching out to leave a bloody handprint on the wall behind him. Wataru grunted and readjusted his grip and Atsushi felt more of his weight being hefted onto the smaller man’s shoulders. They shuffled forward a few steps, Atsushi gritting his teeth against the burning in his chest and fighting the nausea that swept through him. Wataru was moving too quickly, dragging them along with all the urgency of having hell itself on their heels and Atsushi grunted out a noise that managed to say as much, just without the words involved.  
  
“The place is going to explode,” Wataru said simply. Atsushi blinked. For a moment his step faltered though even he couldn’t tell if it was from the pain or Wataru’s rather blank statement. That’s what it was too, just a statement. He may as well have been informing Atsushi that the sky was blue or that grass was normally green.  
  
There was nothing that he could really say to that. Sure, he could freak out and try to hurry them along, but what was the point? The place was going to explode and Atsushi felt like saying, ‘well, that’s nice.’  
  
“Oh,” Atsushi finally managed to get out. Thankfully it sounded calm and still as a lake. “But that is fine, right?” It was a joke, a sarcastic jibe at Wataru’s cool demeanour. Then again Wataru had never been one to be easily rattled. Always the same poker face no matter what the game or the stakes. Atsushi, in a way, had always admired that aspect of the younger cop. Sure he had his own ways of cloaking his feelings and thoughts and dealing with situations, but Atsushi was sure that no one – ever – had managed to stay as calm as Wataru did.  
  
“Calm is the key to success,” Wataru muttered as he pulled most of Atsushi’s weight onto his shoulders. His mind was getting trapped on the brink of thought and yet the pain in his body blocked it.  
  
“You called me?”  
  
“What?” Wataru asked. His nose wrinkled up as he pulled them forward a step and felt Atsushi’s full weight bare down on him. Atsushi tried to alleviate some of the pressure but it was a pretty futile act.  
  
Atsushi frowned and ground out between his teeth, “you told me to come here. On the phone.”  
  
“I didn’t do it,” the other said and Atsushi instantly felt like the other man was hiding something. He hated that feeling and loathed it even more when it came from Wataru. Their partnership hadn’t been a fairytale one – there were always secrets with partners – but it had been pretty damn close to being inseparable, both in mind and thoughts. Yet the feeling that Wataru was hiding something had always existed, no matter how open and honest they had been. There was something about the other man that Atsushi could just never quite put his finger on.  
  
Now, more so then ever, that was obvious.  
  
Glancing down at the other man, Atsushi saw that grim determination on his face, the slight scowl mixed with the grimace as Wataru concentrated. Like always, his features were completely unreadable, schooled into an expression as impenetrable as cold stone and Atsushi was left grasping at straws. Try as he might he couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps Wataru knew something more than he was letting on, something even bigger than what Atsushi was seeing. Despite the other man’s help, there was still something he wasn’t sharing and Atsushi was determined to get to the bottom of it. Even if it was the last thing he did.  
  
As the pain and burning continued to spread through his body and his head continued to get lighter, Atsushi inwardly grimaced at the likelihood of said resolution.  
  


*****

**Chapter Twenty-Two Preview: **

  
  
“Fuck me,” Aoi muttered beside him as Ruki blanched. The sudden urge to round on Aoi and scream that all this was his and his movie freaked mind’s fault was overwhelming. Even though Ruki knew it was stupid, he couldn’t help but liken it to all those horror movies he had seen – or avoided seeing – when the serial killer was able to survive anything and keep coming back. The assassin was like that, a looming threat of death that couldn’t be overcome.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Two – When dreams have died… the World will be on Fire

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

When dreams have died… the World will be on Fire

*****

  
  
Ruki stared in disbelief at the assassin. It was one of those moments that made concentration hard, almost impossible, and yet there was nothing that he could do to break his hopeless staring.  
  
When the assassin had pulled the tanto from his back even Ruki had declared the man utterly insane.  
  
At Uruha’s place Ruki had vaguely considered the idea of taking a wakizashi into the fight with him but he had quickly dismissed it as silly and unnecessary. Now, more than anything, he was wishing that he had kept to that random impulse.  
  
Suddenly the fruit pounder he snatched from the bar seemed like one hell of a good find. Originally he had merely intended to use it as a bat; a way to put some distance between himself and the assassin.  
  
Instead he was using it as a shield. The wood was solid and about as thick as his balled fist so it managed to stop the blows remarkably well. At least at the beginning. Now it was getting harder and harder, the wood was splintering and starting to bend, buckling with each strike successfully blocked.  
  
Then there was the issue of the strain it put on his arms. Like most Yakuza, Ruki was undeniably skilled with a blade but there was a big difference between dodging attacks and actually fighting. In a true fight there was variety between attack and defence, all outlined with different moves and actions which used different muscles. With the dull hunk of wood in his hands, all he was doing was breaking the force of the other man’s swing while trying to deflect the blows and it was taking it toll on more than just the wood. Ruki’s arms were shaking, his legs wobbly. His wounded knee was getting more and more useless – jelly like – as he was constantly forced to use his legs to brace himself.  
  
The assassin bore down on him, forcing Ruki across the club with each swing. Unsteady feet struggled to find level ground as Ruki lifted his beaten shield up again, blocking yet another forceful swing. The tanto scraped along the length of the muddling stick, shaving hunks of wood off as it went. Ruki gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the way it made his arm rattle and jerk.  
  
It all happened so suddenly that Ruki wasn’t even sure if it were real. All his training and preparation for a time like this failed him just as fate apparently decided that he wasn’t worthy. That or maybe fate was busy elsewhere, working time and destiny into allowing someone else an opportunity and thus Ruki got the short straw.  
  
The assassin grabbed hold of the muddling stick, yanking it to the side. Ruki saw the consequences coming before the hitman even had a proper grip but there was nothing he could do.  
  
Before he knew it he was letting go of the broken stick and dashing to the side in hopes of avoiding the killing blow.  
  
Not quick enough and Ruki screamed as pain ripped through his shoulder.  
  
The little knife protruded from the flesh as blood ran down his chest. He didn’t even bother trying to move his arm. It would no doubt be useless; Ruki could feel the blade wedged between the bones of his shoulder. He pictured it like someone shoving a plank of wood into the cogs of a huge clock in order to bring the structure to a shuddering stop.  
  
He was aware that on some level he should have considered himself lucky. Had he not moved, not let go of that makeshift shield and darted to the side, he would have been dead. The blade would have sunk into his heart, destroying all hope of salvation and life with one well aimed blow. Ruki tried to focus on that, tried to see his left arm as a blessing but none of that helped when dealing with the pain.  
  
Instantly his mind began to fog over as the pain swept through him. The warmth forming on the back of his arm confirmed his worst fears; the knife had gone straight through.  
  
All it took was that moment of realization; just a shattered fragment of time and the assassin was stepping forward. The man’s eyes were dark, boring into Ruki’s with such hatred that Ruki found it difficult to maintain eye contact. Even so, it was utterly hopeless to even try to look away.  
  
Mesmerized. His eyes were transfixed on the other man’s, watching as the assassin stepped closer. His small frame was highlighted by the flames behind him, flames that where tearing apart the bar and slowly growing larger. The fires were almost as consuming as the man’s eyes.  
  
The hitman’s hand extended out and Ruki had the oddest feeling of need; a need to stretch his own out until their fingers touched. It was like the man could control him with just the darkened intensity of his eyes and that was a truly horrifying thought. Before Ruki could move, the assassin’s hand closed around the blade and through all the pain and odd confusion caused by the man’s eyes, Ruki didn’t understand why.  
  
The knife was yanked out and Ruki fell. He could taste blood.  
  
There was no point struggling to stay on his feet, no reason for him to continue to fight the waves of nausea that crashed through him. His knee pulsed, growing larger and sorer with each beat of his heart and his head spun from one too many blows. He could feel his stomach doing strange flip-flops, churning with such force that he was sure he was about to be sick.  
  
He landed on the floor in a kneeling heap. His sore knee cried out as it slammed into the concrete but Ruki hardly noticed. Both hands slipped out in front of him, his left falling behind as his shoulder restricted almost all movement. Try as he might, he couldn’t get himself to breathe. Shallow, bone shattering gasps were the best he could come up with as he sucked in air yet somehow it never quite reached his lungs. It got caught in the pool of thick liquid forming in his throat, bubbling out of a gash his teeth had made across his tongue.  
  
Ruki was lost. Surrounded by darkness and noise that he didn’t understand, he knew that he should get up, that he needed to move and yet he just couldn’t. He could feel the shift in the air, the anticipation as the assassin no doubt aimed a killing strike and yet, on some frightening level, Ruki couldn’t bring himself to care.  
  
The sound of feet and a throaty yelp caught Ruki’s attention, telling him that the blow never landed more so than the lack of further pain. It took all his effort to raise his eyes and then his head just to see what was going on. It was even harder to focus on the blurry reality taking place around him.  
  
The assassin was being driven backwards by a flurry of black material and hair. Ruki blinked, trying to clear his vision and reaffirm what he was seeing.  
  
Aoi.  
  
Ruki almost wanted to laugh. Maybe even cry or just scream his frustrations out. There was Aoi, alive and whole, driving back Ruki’s would be killer with an impressive array of moves that almost resembled a ninja. Well, a dunk ninja with little to no sense of balance.  
  
It made Ruki feel sick to his stomach, a deep hollowing sickness that had nothing to do with the pain and everything to do with his own actions. Ruki’s past words were coming back to haunt him already. He should have expected it, should have seen it coming considering their track record for the last few days. Again, Aoi was fundamentally saving the day after Ruki had insulted him and refused to offer his own help. Again, Ruki was the bad guy, just as he damnwell deserved.  
  
Not for the first time since meeting the hacker, Ruki felt a wave of self disgust sweep over him. In a way Ruki knew that it all just served him right.  
  
Pushing those feelings to the back of his mind, Ruki watched as Aoi delivered a rather notable chop to the assassin’s arm. That was all it took to have the knife clattering to the ground and suddenly the fight seemed evenly matched.  
  
Ruki had to do something – anything – even if it was just for his own piece of mind. Grunting as he shifted his weight, Ruki forced his right arm to reach out in front of him while he cradled his left to his chest. It was slow going crawling across the floor with one useless arm and one leg that threatened to give way with each inch he made. Just as he was positive he couldn’t go any further, Ruki stretched his right arm out, balancing precariously on his knees. After what felt like forever, he finally managed to drag, pull and finally grab the forgotten knife from the floor and up into his lap.  
  
The blade was cold and heavy in his hands. It seemed to vibrate as he held it; pulsing with a life of its own that beat even quicker than the shakiness of his arm. Ruki tightened his grip, half afraid that the blade would shake straight out of his hand if he didn’t get a better grip. He had to concentrate. Had to focus and for once, he had to actually help that semi-useless, overly lucky hacker.  
  
Dark eyes snapped up, taking in the scene before with reserved observation. Somehow the fight had managed to turn them around. The assassin was driving Aoi further backwards and towards the fire of the bar with each strike. For a moment Ruki merely watched, fascinated by the scene before him despite its rather morbid undertones. Aoi was tiring, Ruki could see that much, though that within itself was somewhat next to amazing to watch. The way the hacker moved, so fluid and sure despite the heaviness of his limbs; Ruki never would have thought the oftentimes awkward man to be capable of such determined grace.  
  
Now all that remained for him was to stand. That was going to be a tribulation unto itself yet Ruki was stubborn enough to force himself to do it. One leg after the other; the sound of his knee popping against bone and cartilage was enough to make his stomach churn, never mind the pain it sent through his body. His leg tingled all the way from the tip of his toes to his hip and maybe it was just his paranoia but he was sure it was starting to numb the base of his spine as well.  
  
None of that mattered though. There would be time enough to allow the agony to consume him. For that to happen, he had to dispose of the threat and that, thankfully, was within his power to do.  
  
Spinning the knife over in his hand to readjust his grip, Ruki didn’t hesitate a moment longer before limping forward and plunging it into the assassin’s back. He almost thought he wouldn’t make it, his knee buckling dangerously with each step and every fraction of a second that passed, Ruki was sure the killer was going to turn around and stop him. Maybe luck was back on his side, or fate had decided to intervene again and lend him a hand as the blade sunk into skin before Ruki’s attack was detected.  
  
It was a shitty way to go, stabbed from behind while your guard was down, but Ruki hardly had it in himself to care. The fucker had brought it on himself anyway.  
  
The small sword slid through the man’s back in a way that had Ruki trembling. For all his training and skill and in light of all he had done for his father and family, stabbing a guy straight through had never been one of them. It was a sickly feeling, like a knife through butter filled with small sediments of concrete. So soft and easy once the motion was started, the flesh parted and if it wasn’t for the rattling sensation every time Ruki hit bone, he would have easily fooled himself into thinking that none of this was real.  
  
It was though. It was startlingly real and some part of Ruki was thankful for that.  
  
With a shove, Ruki drove the blade in even further, feeling a new wetness cover his hands as he did so. He refused to let it bother him. Fingers slippery with blood, Ruki gave the knife a good, harsh wrench, twisting it and yanking it slightly upwards as he did so. The assassin howled in pain, squirming against the blade until Ruki felt the razor sharp edge snag on bone.  
  
Grimacing, Ruki let go of the blade as if were on fire. Staggering backwards, his knee making the motion all the more difficult, he wiped his hands on his pants and hoped for the best.  
  
He saw Aoi duck out of the way of the falling man; saw the streak of dark as Aoi moved almost faster than Ruki’s pain filled mind could comprehend. Then the man was beside him, steadying him by holding his elbow and wrapping a hand around Ruki’s waist. Warmth surrounded him as Aoi pulled him close and led their retreat.  
  
The assassin still stood, perfectly still and for a stupid moment Ruki thought that maybe he had turned to stone. Perhaps his skin had become marble, smooth and durable enough to endure the heat of the inferno.  
  
Ruki knew that such thoughts were stupid and implausible but looking at the man he couldn’t help but entertain the idea.  
  
As if the assassin had heard the idiocy of Ruki’s ideas, he suddenly moved again. Ruki sucked in a deep breath, feeling no relieving gust of oxygen reaching his lungs. Only the burn of smoke and carbon dioxide existed, especially when the assassin turned on them again, his face contorted in pain as he took a step forward.  
  
“Fuck me,” Aoi muttered beside him as Ruki blanched. The sudden urge to round on Aoi and scream that all this was his and his movie freaked mind’s fault was overwhelming. Even though Ruki knew it was stupid, he couldn’t help but liken it to all those horror movies he had seen – or avoided seeing – when the serial killer was able to survive anything and keep coming back. The assassin was like that, a looming threat of death that couldn’t be overcome.  
  
A shiver went down his spine as the assassin’s eyes flashed in his direction and Ruki struggled to step backwards. Aoi’s supporting hands helped him, pulling him along faster than Ruki would have been able to move on his own and Ruki gave himself over to the guidance.  
  
The assassin continued to stumble towards them and Ruki was sure he’d have nightmares about this for the rest of his life. Provided this seemingly immortal freak didn’t kill them then and there.  
  
It took longer than he would have thought to realise that Aoi was no longer holding him up. As soon as he did, Ruki missed that warm contact, the heat of the other’s skin which seemed so much cooler than the charring of the fires around them. Confused, Ruki looked up and watched as Aoi hesitantly moved towards the assassin. Ruki held his breath in anticipation and anxiety.  
  
Aoi spun on his foot, his whole body seeming to go utterly boneless and yet somehow stay rigid at the same time. His head snapped forward despite the way he turned and then, at the very last minute, he jumped. Ruki watched utterly stunned as he switched his footing. One minute he’d been balancing on his right and then the next he was on his left while his right shoe slammed against the assassin’s neck.  
  
Ruki blinked, so far beyond surprised that he was sure he’d just imagined the entire thing. Yet there was the assassin, stumbling backwards with his mouth opened so wide that it looked painful. Aoi was in a defensive stance, his arms raised and his hands balled into fists even as the assassin tried to get his footing. Aoi didn’t move, his face set stonily as he waited; calm despite his obvious tension and it was only then that Ruki realised something rather imperative. Aoi had positioned himself right between the assassin and Ruki, blocking him. It was only due to Ruki’s unbalanced condition that he happened to be leaning so far over that he could see around Aoi’s body.  
  
Fucking show off and had Ruki not been so damn impressed, he would have rolled his eyes.  
  
The assassin stumbled backwards, his arms flailing as he struggled to keep his balance. The blood that ran down his face seemed to glow in the light of the flames; hellish and demonic as he screamed. Ruki wasn’t overly sure if he could hear the sound or not, if it was a silent scream or if the snarl of it was disguised by the roar of the flames. Maybe even the pain in his own body was cloaking it out but either way, Ruki was undeniably glad that he didn’t hear it. That was the sort of horrific thing that would stay with him for ever.  
  
Ruki watched, trying to predict if the man would recover or finally succumb. Aoi seemed to work it out before Ruki did as he finally dropped his guard and moved backwards. Before too long Ruki could feel the other man hovering beside him, his hands holding him up while pressing Ruki’s body against his chest. Ruki blinked, wondering about the apparent change of the assassin’s threat meter.  
  
He looked over just in time to see the man trip. Aoi was already moving them backwards but Ruki could tell that his first assumptions had been correct. Aoi had worked out what would happen to the man before Ruki. All too suddenly, the reason behind the almighty kick made sense. Aoi had sent the man struggling back to the point where he tripped over the fallen lights. Ruki grimaced and felt Aoi’s hands holding him closer as the man finally fell.  
  
It was like watching a paper doll crumple under a stream of water. First his knees went as they hit against the metal. Then his upper body followed, arching backwards before his feet flew up in the air. Ruki couldn’t help but wonder if the assassin knew what was waiting behind that twisted pile of metal and glass. If the man comprehended his coming death the way that Ruki could see it play out. Something about that hurt, right down to the very pit of his stomach and Ruki felt himself gag.  
  
The hideous screech as the flames consumed him came next and Ruki knew that he had heard that one pained cry, unlike the last ones. No matter what he heard, from that day forward, all he would know was that scream. It would run behind all other sounds, echoing out at a higher octave so that only he could perceive it. A haunting reminder of fire and ashes.  
  
Then the stench of burning hair and sizzling skin hit him like a tidal wave and Ruki lost it. Dizzy from the pain, Ruki’s knees buckled and he doubled over. Aoi reached for him, holding him somewhere between collapsed and standing as Ruki felt the bile rise in the back of his throat and mingle with the blood. His stomach was empty, marking the reaction as both futile and painful. All he could feel was the burn of acid in the back of his throat mixed with the taste of blood on his tongue and teeth.  
  
Even as he retched, he was aware that Aoi was moving him. Ruki felt himself being pulled upwards, pushed and prodded and shaped into some parody of a standing human being. Another violent retch and he was moving, following Aoi’s unspoken directions like a child blinded by their fear of the dark.  
  
Aoi was pushing him along, propelling Ruki forward as the heat and smoke started to get heavier and heavier. Maybe it was the pain or maybe he’d just inhaled too much but Ruki was starting to find it hella hard to breathe. His head was spinning, the world blurring in and out of focus in a strange jolting dance and if it wasn’t for Aoi’s hands on his back, Ruki knew he would have stopped to try and take it all in. To make sense of his chaotic surroundings.  
  
He wasn’t concentrating and try as he might there was no way that he could register what was actually going on. It was all a haze. A dark smudge against a multicoloured background that refused to be completely covered.  
  
Off to their left something caught fire, roaring out into the already burning club and throwing them off balance. Ruki stumbled, his legs giving way to the force of the blast. He stayed upright only through Aoi’s grabbing hands and remarkably steady feet, though he somehow managed to get tuned around in the other’s hold. Aoi didn’t pause to rectify the situation, merely pushed Ruki backwards and further away from the main fire.  
  
From what Ruki could tell they were almost to the end of the bar, near the back door. Close to freedom and yet it still seemed too damn far.  
  
Plaster flaked and peeled off the walls, raining down around them in like ash from a volcano. It crinkled and burnt in mid air, the white slowly being eaten by the glowing red of the embers and the dark black of the remaining charcoal. Deadly petals, that was what they looked like. The scattered petals of some gothic flower that was wilting above them. When they hit skin and clothes alike they spread searing pain and more than once Ruki had to pat at his or Aoi’s clothing, removing the smouldering little flakes and putting a stop to any spreading flames.  
  
They also made the air harder to breath. There was the smoke, thick bellowing masses of it everywhere and then there were those flakes. They floated so lightly on the air that they filtered towards Ruki’s mouth and nose each time he inhaled.  
  
Almost there. Ruki could practically smell and taste freedom. Freedom from the fire; from the resulting smoke and ash. Freedom from the stench of burning rubber and flesh and the acidic pungency of alcohol.  
  
There was a loud groan from above, a side splitting screech and then Ruki felt endangered. He couldn’t explain it, couldn’t put it down to rational logic. There was just this fear that gripped his heart so tightly that he thought he would die right there.  
  
Pushing at Aoi, Ruki struggled against the other man. Aoi wasn’t trying to stop him but Ruki could feel the hesitation in the man’s actions, sense the confusion. Ruki paid it no attention and using the last of his strength, yanked Aoi to the side and towards the bar. Not even Aoi could keep his footing then and they both went stumbling backwards in a tangle of limbs.  
  
A moment later the steel framing holding the rest of the clubs lights crashed from the ceiling, landing with a bang no more than a foot away.  
  
It covered the door; their only escape and Ruki muttered a curse. Not that Ruki really had time to think on that, nor to feel more panic build up inside of him. The inferno was getting worse, hotter and hotter and he was starting to feel flames licking at his skin. Had he been paying attention Ruki would have found it damn well hilarious. After all that planning on how to keep the assassins ensnared to give Ruki and Aoi the tactical advantage and here they were, trapped by their own fucking plan. Just bloody perfect.  
  
Not to mention that the scaffolding had landed with such force that the floor shook. It jolted the two men, sending their tripping stumble into a full blown fall. Ruki’s back hit the corner of the bar and Aoi’s hands grabbed at him. Half falling, half getting pulled over, Ruki’s behind hit the floor and his leg jarred again just for good measure. He gasped at the pain; fuck, at everything. The way his leg shuddered in protest and the desperate cry of his torn open shoulder. It was all one huge scream, one enormous cry that stole the breath from his lungs and starved his brain of oxygen.  
  
And then Aoi was on top of him and doing the last thing that Ruki expected. The hacker’s hands seemed to be everywhere and yet nowhere at the same time, pulling and tugging at all of Ruki’s limbs and moulding them as he saw fit. Ruki felt his pained leg getting pushed backwards with no attention paid to being nice. His arms were folded in, pushed against his chest and his head was soon pushed after them.  
  
A ball. Aoi had made him into a tiny, compact little ball and then with one more press to the back of Ruki’s back, Aoi was crushing down on him. For a moment Ruki was confused, wondering what the hell Aoi was playing at by confining him into such a tight, uncomfortable position. Then it dawned on him, hard and fucking hot. Aoi was shielding him, hiding him from the heat and flames. His arms were folded over the top of Ruki’s head, pushing him further down and keeping his face well and truly hidden.  
  
Ruki could feel the taller man flinching above him, feel his body react to the burning building and it brought a choked cry from Ruki’s lips.  
  
Struggling against the man’s grip, Ruki freed his hands and wrapped them around Aoi’s chest, pulling the hacker closer and covering as much of the other man as possible. Aoi tried to protest, once again grabbing at Ruki’s arms but Ruki would have none of it. No amount of Aoi’s silliness was going to help Ruki and it sure as hell wasn’t going to help Aoi himself. They were both fucked, both doomed and Ruki wasn’t cold enough to expect or want Aoi to sacrifice himself, especially not for such a futile act.  
  
In a way he couldn’t believe that it was all going to end like this. That after so much they would end up burning to death in the very fire they had used to trap their would-be killers. It hardly seemed fair, not after all that they had been through, not after everything that they had endured. All the struggles just to get to this point in time.  
  
As the smoke got thicker, the heavy bellows of it pressing closer and closer to the floor, Ruki found it harder and harder to breathe. He had to suck in more air, battle more smoke in order to get the needed oxygen to his lungs but with every intake the pain in his shoulder intensified. Blood dribbled from his chin, wetting the front of his shirt and melding with the tears the smoke stole from his eyes.  
  
Ruki gasped and panted, struggling for breath even as Aoi held him tighter. “Hold on.” He heard the words whispered into his ear, Aoi’s lips brushing against his skin lightly as he spoke. Ruki shuddered at the feeling of the other’s shallow breathing tickling his throat. It was actually rather pleasant.  
  
He wanted to tell the other man that he would, that he would try and that he damnwell expected Aoi to do the same, but before he got the chance to get enough breath to speak, Aoi was moving. Ruki felt the pressure lift from his back and shoulders and his body instantly start to uncurl. Aoi’s hands were back, pushing at him and prodding him back into the tightness of his little ball but that was it. No press of Aoi’s body against his, no protecting arms circling him or hot breath soothing Ruki’s skin. Nothing.  
  
Lifting his head, Ruki struggled to see through the haze that the overwhelming heat caused. The room was getting hotter and Ruki couldn’t keep his eyes open as the smoke stung them. It wasn’t long before Ruki felt himself going numb. Everything went black, the world fading out of focus with the last thing he saw being Aoi staggering towards the warped steel blocking the door.

  
  
*****

  
  
So tired. Atsushi could hardly keep his head up as Wataru lead them out of the parking lot. The small part of his brain that could still function kept predicting the explosion of the building behind them, visualizing it to the point where he could almost feel it. The heat against his flesh; the roaring noise making his body shake.  
  
Yet nothing happened. Each shuffled step took them further and further from the building and the lifeless body of his latest partner. That was somewhat of a relief though Atsushi was too distracted to care.  
  
The idea of Toru was just there in his mind; it merely existed among all the other things that he knew to be true and to exist. He wasn’t repulsed by it, wasn’t angry about it or even sad. Toru existed, he had his purpose, he tried, failed and now all that was left was a corpse.  
  
They were almost to the car when Atsushi felt his stomach lurch and his heart jump into his mouth. There was no more warning, no more tingling of his limbs or bizarre lightness of his head. Just that fateful feeling of sickness and the pavement was rushing up to meet him.  
  
Hands grabbed at his middle, arms tugging him to a stop in a way that sent pain flashing throughout his whole body. He could hear Wataru swearing above him as the man did nothing to try and remain gentle. Atsushi’s hands falling forward and hitting the pavement was a clear sign of his lack of control; they weren’t there to support him or to break his fall. They just hung limply by his sides, motion as controlled movement was completely forgotten.  
  
The pavement was black and glistening in the flickering light from above. The street lamp was still living, still battling against its fate as the tungsten filament frayed. The pressure would be building within the tight confines of the glass; only a short time now and the pavement wouldn’t shine anymore. Shadows would be banished as the light died out and there would be nothing left but darkness and indescribable shapes, bleeding into the night sky.  
  
And then it hit him. Staring at a particuly bright speck nestled within the asphalt, something clicked into place in his mind and just made sense.  
  
Atsushi had the feeling of being small, of being something tiny and insignificant in a greater whole. No one could have called him close-minded or sheltered and he was hardly stuck on a single track his entire life. But then and there, he knew that it was all nothing, all _for_ nothing. The police, the yakuza, the undesirable way that people succumb to corruption and the promise of money. Nothing.  
  
His actions were like tiny ripples on the surface of a great lake. Insects. The circling waves he had created could be mirrored in the action of insects skimming along the surface. He hadn’t thrown a rock into the pool, hadn’t caused any form of mini tidal wave to sweep against the shore, forever changing the embankment and thus altering life. All he’d caused were tiny little ripples that had died out before reaching the shore.  
  
People always said that your life flashes before your eyes before you die. Atsushi had never believed that, he thought that it was a load of scripture induced hysteria. But then again, maybe they weren’t far off. Maybe what flashed through your mind was something that was meant to help you go in peace. A realization that most people didn’t understand; a key to enlightenment before death.  
  
“Come on, Atsushi!” The way Wataru said the words was utterly menacing. Like a threat, they were hissed out and spat with venom as the shorter man yanked Atsushi back to his feet. The detective was aware that he was moving again, his weight somehow balanced off him as his feet scuffled uselessly along with every step.  
  
He was aware and he was damnwell against it.  
  
Atsushi just wanted to sit, to slump down and let the pain wash over him. Fighting it was becoming too hard and it was starting to consume him anyway. The hole in his chest moved with every breath he took, the slightly burnt skin from the heat of the bullets stretching and contracting painfully.  
  
He liked to think he would have done the brave, selfless thing. Atsushi had never really considered himself a greedy person, nor someone determined to wallow in his own self pity; he did things right. There was nothing that he wanted more than to put on a brave face and tell Wataru to leave, to go and do whatever he was meant to be doing. To help Ruki and the hacker and put an end to the week of terror. Only thing was, he couldn’t find his voice and his mouth outright refused to move. It was driving him insane, his inner monologue pushing him to the point of mental exhaustion as it protested the way Wataru practically carried him to the car.  
  
With his mind so animatedly focused elsewhere, he was sitting in the passenger seat before he even realised. There was a strange buzzing noise near his ear which, after much concentration on his surroundings, he realised was Wataru talking.  
  
“Did I tell you I was a cop again?” Wataru asked with a chuckle. Atsushi frowned, not fully understanding the meaning of the words. He shifted slightly, manoeuvring himself further into the seat and lolling his head back against the headrest.  
  
“Handy little trick the hacker pulled,” Wataru continued on. What Wataru was doing finally made sense to Atsushi. He was trying to keep him thinking, trying to keep him awake and functioning.  
  
Atsushi chuckled in response, not really knowing what to say or think of the information. He was sure that had this come up at a different point in time, he would have been overjoyed. The sour hint of fraud would have lingered on his tongue though; the false documentation, the lies. But then again, the force needed more people like Wataru and Atsushi would be damned before he’d speak out against such a change. If need be he would even play along, back up whatever story Wataru and the hacker had spun. What was the point of denying that illusive pull, that little ounce of temptation if it would get him what he wanted; his partner back and one of the best cops of their time back on the force? A little lie and a little piece of his moral soul was a small price to pay.  
  
He would have liked to give more of a response, show his appreciation for the good news and welcome Wataru back with an open mind and heart but something stopped him. For once it wasn’t the pain or the muddled mess inside his head. It was something worse.  
  
Through the safety of the windscreen, Atsushi watched as the building went up in flames.  
  
It was like a scene from an action movie. It all happened so quickly. He could smell the smoke in the air, sniff it out over the overwhelming stench of his own blood. Atsushi could even see the smoke through the haze of his own vision, rising like a black hand grasping at the sky. The hand of the devil, stretching forth from hell, heading toward the heavens and destroying all in its wake.  
  
Never before had Atsushi seen such a fear inspiring site. Countless years on the force bore witness to evils that should never exist, even in troubled nightmares. But this, the way the red-orange glow lifted up into the air and cast deformed shadows across the street was truly horrifying. Nothing was coming out of that unscathed; the flames alone would have burnt and charred flesh and hair alike, making for a quick but painful death. The explosion only made it even worse.  
  
“I can’t stay,” Wataru sighed. Atsushi nodded, noticing the way Wataru glanced fearfully over at the building. The PI was rocking on his feet, his hands twitching by his sides in worry. Atsushi nodded slightly as his eyes flicked lazily back to the crumbling club.  
  
There was no movement, no sign of life at all other than the ever rising flames. Idly, Atsushi found himself wondering what it was that Wataru had been expected to do. Had they expected Atsushi and Toru to show up? Had Wataru been there for that very purpose or was the PI more involved in all this than Atsushi thought.  
  
He could feel a small agreeing sound rumble in the back of his throat nonetheless. It was his attempt at words, feeble as it might have been. It was getting harder and harder to keep concentrating. Wataru’s words were becoming a blur, his voice blending into the oddly muffled sound of fire and cracking wood. The flames were extending in front of Atsushi’s eyes, distorting and twisting out in ways that were physically impossible.  
  
Finally Atsushi’s eyes closed. He tried to blink them a few extra times, tried to force them open again, but it got him nowhere. It was far too hard to keep himself aware, especially as he felt chills starting to work their way through his body.  
  
He wasn’t stupid – far from it – and had witnessed too many shootings to not understand what was happening. It was simply the beginning of the end. Blood was running from his wounds too fast despite Wataru’s attempts at a tourniquet. It was making his body weak, causing the cold to have more effect against his clammy skin. The shakes had already begun; the waves of nausea and tiredness sweeping him away and towards unconsciousness.  
  
Atsushi knew all too well that he was bleeding to death. Right there in his car and so close to all the answers that he wanted; needed. As darkness claimed him, the last thing he felt was Wataru’s hand on his forehead and the man’s urgent voice sounding over the car’s radio.  
  
“Officer down… officer down…”  
  


*****

**Chapter Twenty-Three Preview: **

  
  
_Da da daaaa!_  
  
Yeah, you’re not getting one…


	25. Chapter Twenty-Three (Epilogue) – A Shot at Second First Impressions

  
**Epilogue**

A Shot at Second First Impressions 

*****

  
  
Ruki’s eyes cracked open before he instantly closed them again.  
  
He didn’t want to know anything. Not where he was, what time it was or if he was even still whole. Shut the world out and pretend that he wasn’t there; that sounded like a bloody good idea.  
  
However that approach didn’t sit so well with the overwhelming sense of paranoia rising inside of him. Despite what Ruki might have wished for, he was awake now and with wakefulness came fear and danger.  
  
Heaving a sigh, he forced his right eye open before making the left follow suit.  
  
A large armchair was in the corner, facing away from the window and housing a rather peculiar cushion and blanket setup. It struck Ruki as odd though he couldn’t work out why. The window itself was covered up, the outside world blanketed from his view. Glancing to the side he noticed the small end table next to the bed though it was devoid of a clock. Ruki couldn’t work out if that was a good or bad thing though, especially with the window covered.  
  
At least the place didn’t look like a hospital. That was one thing he was thankful for. Those places freaked him out, not to mention that all it took was one crooked doctor with an overfilled needle and Ruki could be dead. Assassinated by the people supposed to help him. After all, the gangs had a hand in everything these days and none as much as Reita.  
  
No hospital, just a plain, small, off-white room.  
  
A knock at the door caused him to flinch, the ideas of his possible end seemingly coming to life. Not knowing what to do, Ruki locked his eyes on the door and waited. He still wasn’t ready to try and get his body to move – it hurt just lying there so movement could only be worse – and in his inspection of the room he’d failed to see anything that would be useful in protecting himself.  
  
That left the rather courageous option of playing dead. It was a pretty pathetic tactic, but apparently it had worked until now.  
  
Sinking further into the bed, Ruki merely waited, his eyes narrowing as he watched the doorknob first jingle and then turn. It was nerve wracking, not knowing what was coming through the door at him. Half of him expected an attack, a full on assault that he would be powerless to stop while the other half of him sought the comfort of a friendly face.  
  
Finally the door swung silently open and Ruki had no more time to fret about his looming fate. A tall man walked in, his stance and pace casual and comfortable, as if this were an everyday occurrence for him. The hallway behind him was dark and again Ruki couldn’t tell if it was artificial gloom or a sign that it was night time.  
  
As the stranger stepped into the room, Ruki watched as the man turned his head to allow dark eyes to glide over to the bed. The action looked as if it too was well practiced and the expression that leapt onto the man’s face said more than any words. It was a daily ritual; one so common that the stranger obviously wasn’t expecting to be met with eyes staring back at him.  
  
As the man looked, Ruki only just realised that he’d forgotten to close his eyes, ruining his option of playing dead entirely.  
  
Instead he found himself staring back at the guy, trying to put a name to a face and identify him as either friend or foe.  
  
There was a groggy moment of hesitation as Ruki gave the man a glance up and down. Something about him was so familiar, so ingrained into his mind that he felt as if he was offering great insult by not instantly remembering.  
  
“Aoi?”  
  
Ruki hardly recognised the man. Clad in dark yet faded jeans and a white t-shirt, he had his hair pulled up in a ponytail and his fringe pinned back. A slight shine to his face suggested that whatever he was doing outside of the room required a lot of effort and wasn’t at all easy work.  
  
Oddly enough and completely despite his better judgement, Ruki found the man actually looked a hell of a lot better. Dirtier and flushed; a nice combination.  
  
“How are you feeling?” Ruki blinked as he tried to get used to the sound. Something about Aoi’s voice had changed. There was no longer that lingering sense of stupidity that Ruki was so good at picking out and fucked if Aoi didn’t sound affirmative and in control for once. At the same time there was something else missing though. An innocence and almost… tenderness that Ruki had gotten used to putting with the idiotic questions and statements.  
  
“Like I got stabbed. Possibly blown up.”  
  
“Well at least you can feel it.”  
  
“Good point.” Ruki smiled weakly, both because he could feel his body protesting the more he woke and also because it was hardly a smiling matter. He had been stabbed. Fucking good shot too and he could feel the pain of the wound even now. The way the skin was all tight and tingling yet numb. “Where are we?”  
  
“Wataru’s place,” Aoi said with a sniff. Ruki noticed the streaks of dirt across his face, dark comparisons to his normally pale skin. One of Aoi’s hands lifted to rub at the bottom of his nose as he sniffed again. He looked generally irritated about it, especially once his hand was gone and it only became worse. “He’s busy with patching things up at the station and getting himself back into the force. Think he’s staying in a hotel somewhere; haven’t seen him in a few days but he rings in to check.”  
  
Ruki blinked at the information, finding it all a little hard to take in. “A few days? How long have I been asleep?”  
  
Aoi’s eyes flashed momentarily, dancing with some strange emotion that Ruki couldn’t pinpoint. Only then did it occur to him that Aoi looked tired, dead tired like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders alone.  
  
“A few days.”  
  
“Fuck!” Somehow Ruki believed Aoi. There was no reason to lie about something like that and considering the way his back was starting to throb and his head felt light he was sure that ‘a few days’ was probably Aoi’s version of trying to make the facts less scary. Didn’t work a charm, not in the slightest and Ruki felt clarity come smashing back into his already sore head.  
  
Shifting under the blankets, Ruki pulled his right arm up next to his chest and bent his elbow. With considerable difficulty he rolled himself forward slightly, pressing his bent arm into the bed and using them as a form of leverage.  
  
Aoi’s large hand planted in the middle of his chest stopped any and all effort.  
  
“No,” Aoi said and Ruki didn’t miss the way that it came out as something of a command. His eyes flicked up to see Aoi looking down at him, his jaw set tightly and his eyes oddly open without the fringe to hide them. He looked older – wiser – like he had just transformed overnight or his history had been completely rewritten by a single action. Changed. That was the only way Ruki could describe it and as much as he hated to admit it he couldn’t pinpoint if it was a change for the better or not. Not yet at least. “Stay. You need your rest.”  
  
Before he really knew what was happening, Aoi had lent down, grabbed his arm and straightened it out while pushing against Ruki’s chest. It was gentle and slow but the sort of order that left Ruki no time or opportunity to protest. All too quickly his head was back on the pillow, his back flush against the bed and the covers pulled up and tucked in under his neck.  
  
It was infuriatingly nice and had Ruki struggling not to bear his teeth in anger.  
  
Besides, there was more to worry about than just his wounds. That was an after thought really. Wataru’s place, while marginally safe, probably wasn’t the best place for them to be. Nowhere within the city was actually.  
  
Ruki failed to see how Aoi hadn’t worked that out yet. They needed to get out of here, run for whatever shitty life they had left. While Ruki was pretty sure the assassins were dead, he knew that Reita wouldn’t take long to send more. It was only a matter of time before some other danger came knocking down the door, especially if they had stayed in the one place for as long as Aoi said.  
  
“We need to move.” Ruki was positive that the desperation within his head filled his words but he didn’t see Aoi moving. In fact he hardly even reacted to the words at all. He merely sighed and Ruki watched, horror struck, as Aoi bent closer and cut off Ruki’s attempts at sitting up again.  
  
“They’ll find us!” Ruki said the words slowly, pronouncing every syllable just in case Aoi was still stupid. Then again, looking at him standing there with that strange half smile on his face, Ruki wondered why the hell he had ever starting thinking the idiot did have intelligence. He tried to brush the other man’s hands away though the pain in his left shoulder stopped that action right in its tracks.  
  
“Just hang on a damn second,” Aoi stated, his tone snappy despite the strange smile that was getting wider and wider across his face. Ruki looked on with horror, wondering if the man had finally gone insane. Finally snapped. Even worse, maybe he knew something that Ruki didn’t. Horrific flashes of Aoi selling him out assaulted his mind, of Reita sitting calmly downstairs, waiting for the moment to make his grand and dramatic entrance.  
  
Staring up at Aoi, Ruki must have shown his thoughts and fears clearly on his face for Aoi shook his head and looked generally irritated. “Don’t be silly,” he chastised, instantly making Ruki feel like an idiot. It was strange how the man was able to do that. It didn’t do much to quell Ruki’s fears, though the look that Aoi gave him was enough to silence him. “I wouldn’t sell you out,” Aoi added as Ruki’s head was again guided to the pillow.  
  
“Actually… I have some good news,” Aoi said and Ruki could just see the smugness in Aoi’s eyes. It wasn’t critical or patronizing, but it was there, showing that he had something to be overly proud of. Ruki didn’t bother asking – he knew Aoi would spill the beans pretty quickly. He merely raised one rather painful eyebrow up, encouraging the hacker to go on.  
  
“Well, I didn’t think you would mind but umm…” Aoi was practically bubbling though it was hard to tell if it was from excitement or nervousness. Ruki watched as he tried to calm himself, finding the physical display rather comical to watch. “The building burnt to the ground,” he continued, causing Ruki to frown.  
  
“I don’t get it.”  
  
“It burnt down. With the assassins in it.”  
  
Aoi was doing it on purpose now, that glint in his eyes saying more then he probably realised. He was having fun egging Ruki on. Huffing and letting a small growl resound in the back of his throat, Ruki gave the taller man his best unamused glare. “Oh for Christ’s sake, Aoi, just tell me.” Ruki failed to see what was so great about Aoi’s little revelation; after all, he had already assumed that the assassins were dead. Ruki and Aoi were alive, weren’t they? So there was no way that the mercenaries had walked away from that fight.  
  
“You are officially dead,” Aoi said with a grin and Ruki was sure his own face fell from the shock. He rocked forward on his toes once, adding a bit of a bounce to the statement. “So am I actually.”  
  
“What?” Ruki asked. The sentence made no sense. Unless hell was a shitload cooler than he had expected then there was no way that he was dead. Unless of course he’d somehow managed to get his way to heaven, though it was certainly a warped form of paradise; hurting like hell and being stuck with the most annoying man he’d ever met in his life.  
  
Then the light bulb clicked. After the initial freak out of all the horrible ways he was going to get stuck spending eternity, there was a little flash of thought and Ruki’s lips stretched into a smile. It was all starting to make sense. Brilliant, clear, perfect sense. “The assassins did their job…”  
  
Looking up at Aoi, Ruki couldn’t help but wonder what movie the hacker had got this idea from. Passing the assassin’s bodies off as theirs was so simplistic that it was ingenious. They would be far too burnt for anyone to recognise them and being wanted criminals, no one would have given too much care over how they were buried. Or disposed of as was probably the case. They were close enough in height and build that it would have been enough. A tragic yet befitting end for heinous felons.  
  
“Apparently,” Aoi nodded, his grin spreading further. Ruki couldn’t help but return the expression even though he found the skin around his mouth rather sore. It felt bruised and swollen; no doubt the result of his scuffle with the blonde hitman.  
  
“It’s not fool proof,” Aoi continued. Ruki noticed the way his hyperactivity settled so quickly. He oddly found it rather sickening, seeing the man go from carefree to weighed down. Maybe it was the situation getting the better of Aoi, maybe realization and understanding had finally come to bite him in the ass. This wasn’t a game, it wasn’t a movie and they could be dead at any moment.  
  
Ruki almost nodded to his own thoughts at he turned his head slightly, altering his gaze. That was what he could see reflected back so clearly in Aoi’s eyes. Understanding.  
  
“Wataru released a statement that we were dead. A wanted felon – you – and a computer hacker working for the mob; me.” Aoi shrugged and offered a small sigh. With that small action, Ruki realised that he wasn’t alone in his thoughts. It was a good ploy but it wouldn’t last. “It should keep most of the city off our backs for a bit, but then, well, you know.”  
  
Ruki nodded. He did know. Sure, their apparent deaths gave them a chance to recuperate and regroup but they would still have to decide on the future. Reita would probably buy the lie for a few days at the most. Maybe, if they were lucky, they could get a week under the idea that the assassins would need to lay low before claiming the rest of their reward. But after that Reita would know. When his hired killers didn’t make contact and expect payment it was only a matter of time before he put two and two together. They would just have to hope that by that stage they would be long gone.  
  
Or ready to fight…  
  
It was then that a thought struck Ruki. If the place burnt down, how the hell did they get out? The last thing he could remember was Aoi moving through the flames towards the door.  
  
“Did you get us out?” he asked. Ruki was surprised as just how small his voice sounded, how almost timid he felt when asking such a question. If his suspicions where true then that was just another thing that he owed Aoi.  
  
Aoi sighed at that, his face scrunching up slightly in a look of mild frustration. Baffled, Ruki raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”  
  
“I don’t know.” The words came out all as one deep exhale as Aoi scratched at the back of his head. Curious behaviour for someone who had apparently saved the both of them.  
  
“Aoi?”  
  
“That’s just it,” Aoi went on and Ruki could feel the beginnings of one of Aoi’s rants coming on. Idly he wondered how it was that he’d learnt so much about the other man’s habits and oddities in such a short amount of time. “I remember trying for the door, trying to get the pathway cleared and then… nothing. The smoke was pretty bad; I must have blacked out.” Aoi’s hand moved up to rub his forehead in a way that looked overly self conscious, as if he hated admitting that he wasn’t the one with the solution. “Next thing I knew, I woke up here and, well, yeah,” he motioned around them, showing what he had been doing with his time.  
  
“Wataru helped us.” Ruki felt like he was saying something stupid though he had no clue why. There was no reason for Aoi to be freaking out over this, especially not when the answer was right in front of them the whole time. That was what Wataru was there for; to help with the exit plan.  
  
“No,” Aoi said and Ruki could hear the utter exasperation in his voice. “That’s the problem. He was with that cop that got shot.”  
  
“What cop?”  
  
“Sakurai something,” Aoi muttered, obviously paying no attention to Ruki’s interest. “Though what a cop was doing there…” Aoi sighed, letting the question linger. “It just doesn’t fit.”  
  
Aoi was too busy with his mutterings to notice Ruki’s teeth sinking into his bottom lip; a fact that Ruki was thankful for. There was only one Sakurai that Ruki could think of, both in the force and with a reason to be there.  
  
Strange as it was, he felt his stomach lurch disturbingly at the thought of Atsushi getting shot. They may not have been friends or anything even close, but Ruki never would have wished anything bad on the other man, even if Atsushi seemed to have a death wish of his own.  
  
Ruki remembered his last words to Atsushi all too clearly. _You’ll be signing your own death warrant._ Something about those words made him feel empty inside, as if he had brought on the future with his doomsday prophesy.  
  
“Wh-what happened to him?”  
  
Aoi’s eyes narrowed slightly and Ruki could guess the questions behind the action. Ruki was aware that he hardly seemed to the type to be asking after the wellbeing of some suit. Call him crazy for it, but Ruki couldn’t help but be concerned.  
  
“I…” Aoi started, still looking confused. Ruki could see the way the hacker had to stop and think, process whatever little information he had been told. “He is in the hospital, I know that much, though his location hasn’t been released to the press. I think… I think I remember Wataru mentioning that he still hadn’t woken up though what I saw of it on the news said he was recovering quickly.”  
  
A sigh passed Ruki’s lips, the exhale of air almost silent as he nodded his head. It wasn’t the most encouraging of news, but at least Atsushi was still alive. Besides, being a cop and a detective would ensure that he was well looked after; at least until one of the gang members worked out the press’s little lie. Ruki shuddered to think of what would happen then.  
  
‘Recovering quickly’ was like code talk these days; it was a fabricated reality to screen vulnerable cops from would-be killers. Recovering quickly; able to pick up a gun so don’t go near them. That’s what it was meant to mean yet fucked if they ever actually said it for cops that were already on their feet. It was as much of a death warrant for Atsushi as the cop’s original actions had been in the first place.  
  
The entire idea made Ruki feel useless and a sense of restlessness washed over him. He should be doing something, needed to be doing something for his own sanity, not to mention the welfare of those around him.  
  
“I still should move,” Ruki muttered. Despite his words he made no visible effort to sit up. His mind was thinking about it, debating whether it would be worth the pain it would no doubt cause and while the answer kept coming back as a no, he couldn’t find it in himself to argue.  
  
Aoi shook his head, his hair flicking about his dust covered face and for a moment Ruki thought he saw a glimmer of worry in those dark eyes of his.  
  
“The place is still a mess,” Aoi explained as he stood up and busied himself with straightening out the end of the quilt. He gave himself a quick glance, looking down at his shirt and jeans before dusting himself off in a way that Ruki could only describe as self-consciously. “It got torn to pieces with the bomb so I’m trying to straighten a few things out. It won’t do any of your injuries any good to go tramping around in all the dirt and dust.”  
  
Ruki couldn’t help but smile. It had been a long time since someone had cared like that even if it was mostly faked. As if that wasn’t enough, Aoi carried on once the bed was tidy.  
  
“I’ll bring you some food.” Aoi continued straightening his clothes, his dirt stained hands batting at the darker patches of his clothing as if he hoped to somewhat make them disappear. All he seemed to be doing was adding more to the mix and making the splodges spread but that didn’t stop him. Nervous habit, Ruki gathered, and for a brief moment he could see some of that unease in Aoi that Ruki was so used to dealing with. That tiny spark of awkwardness that lay beyond and behind his new cool exterior.  
  
Ruki was so caught up in his study of the other man that he missed the way Aoi looked at him before turning. The taller man strode towards the door, his steps confident and purposeful and Ruki quickly felt like the jackass as the other’s hand reached for the doorknob. Maybe it was stupid and just his imagination but Ruki suddenly had flashes of the room, of Aoi’s eyes and his own days spent in sleep. The chair was no longer a strange concept; obviously there was only one bed, probably only one room and that was where Aoi had been sleeping. He may have been tiding up downstairs because it really was bad or maybe, for all Ruki’s knew, Aoi was doing it for something to do. Something to keep his mind occupied and his hands busy. Maybe the fact that Aoi was still here was due to his lack of a passport, or the search for them still continuing, or just maybe on some level it was because he and his righteous mind wouldn’t let him leave until Ruki was better.  
  
Ruki had yelled at him, insulted him; fuck, even hit him and here Aoi was sleeping on a chair next to his bed and offering to get him food. Ruki was clean, washed and bandaged up and snuggled into the comforter while Aoi cleaned and tried to pick up the pieces of both their lives. Sure, Ruki was still pissed that Aoi had been the one to reveal his file and bring the past crashing back down on him, but it was bound to have happened sooner or later. Besides, it wasn’t just Ruki’s life that had been ruined. Aoi was now a wanted man, both from the feds and the gangs. His home was a crime scene, his friend or maybe even lover nothing more than a body with a toe tag and after all that he was stuck playing nursemaid to someone who had been nothing but a bastard.  
  
What’s more, with Aoi standing there and saying the stupid things that he did, Ruki didn’t feel like he was completely alone.  
  
“Aoi?” The name had left Ruki’s mouth before he even decided that he was going to speak. For once, however, he was actually glad. It was fucking scary and his mind was chasing itself in circles like an excited dog but at least it was the right thing to do. Apparently there were first times for everything.  
  
Aoi paused at the doorway, his hand on the dull silver knob and the door half open. Ruki could see the sunlight filtering in from the hallway and again his attention was pulled to the room he was in. Darkness. Cool and comforting and created with a rigging of blankets and what looked like Aoi’s jacket. “Yeah?”  
  
“I…” Ruki could have slapped himself. As it was his inner voice set to ranting; bitching about the stutter of the word and the lack of subsequent intellect. It was all there, played out perfectly in his mind and readable like a book to his inner eye yet somehow everything went wrong somewhere between the mind and the mouth. The jaw bone was connected to the knee bone, apparently. Odd that Ruki had once thought that about Aoi and his apparent stupidity.  
  
“I’ll get you some water too.”  
  
“Ya saved m’ ass out there…” The words were hurried and blurted all together in a way that made Ruki proud. He’d spent so long practicing his gutter trash accent that apparently it was rubbing off even when he wanted to be understood. Aoi had never stood a chance in hell of understanding Ruki when he spoke in such a way.  
  
Seeing that Aoi had at least paused at the door again and wasn’t making any move to proceed off into the darkened hall, Ruki took a deep breath and lifted his head off the pillow. “Thank you.” That was more like it, clear, concise words that couldn’t confuse anyone.  
  
Maybe Ruki was just thinking wishfully but he swore that he saw the slightest hints of a smile cross Aoi’s face as the man finally turned back to face him. Those dark eyes seemed to lose some of their intensity as they looked back at Ruki; still cold and unreadable but at least not filled with hate. “A few times actually.”  
  
Ruki couldn’t resist the way the corner of his lips tugged outwards. It wasn’t really a smile but hardly a grimace either. Something caught in between, an emotion that only his subconscious knew and could identify.  
  
“Yeah, a few times.” Ruki agreed. Call him shallow, but he felt better already. However, when Aoi turned away from him again with the obvious intent to leave, Ruki found the man’s name spilling from his lips again.  
  
“Aoi?” Straight away Ruki frowned, feeling cheated by his own vocal cords and mind. That wasn’t meant to have happened. He’d thanked the guy for helping him; that was all that was needed. But then why was his chest still heavy with the strange feelings of regret and guilt?  
  
“Yeah?” The word was sighed out in a way that Ruki didn’t understand. It may have been irritation or it could have just as easily been the result of some inner happiness. Either way, it made Ruki edgy and the words somehow stopped in his throat. It didn’t help that Aoi remained facing the door, his hand poised on the frame, just above the lock.  
  
“I know…” Ruki started, his face scrunching up at the words. They sounded silly, even to him. Trying a different approach, Ruki mentally rearranged what he wanted to say, attempting to find a better way to get his point across. “For what its worth – and I’m sure that’s not much, at all, really, but… I’m sorry. For everything.”  
  
His words were met with silence. No sound, no movement, no deeper breath. Nothing that acknowledged Ruki at all. Ruki felt his heart sink slightly. It was obviously a fool’s wish but part of him had been hoping that Aoi would instantly forgive him. That the older man would just sigh and laugh it off and that they would be fine. Start afresh.  
  
Instead he was offered what felt like the cold shoulder. It was made even more obvious when he noticed Aoi’s fingers curling into a claws that raked down the side of the doorframe.  
  
Aoi’s silence was killing him. If squirming didn’t cause so much damn pain Ruki was pretty positive that he would have resembled some strange bug trying to crawl across the bed. He couldn’t stay still  
  
“I know it is impossible, but…” Ruki knew he was babbling. Talking had never really been his strong point. He could talk his way out of almost anything, but that didn’t mean that he was able to have these chats. “Well, I really wish that we could… maybe start over. Try again.”  
  
People always said that saying things made you feel better, that getting things off your chest was a good thing. Well, Ruki called their bluff and would call them a liar to their damn faces. It didn’t feel any better, it didn’t make the situation any easier and damn it all to hell, all it did was make Ruki want to hide his face under the blanket and never resurface.  
  
Finally Aoi turned, his head down and his eyes hidden which Ruki was oddly thankful for. Ruki breathed out a sigh and nibbled on his bottom lip, again praying that the bed would just swallow him whole and save him from this awkward moment. He should have just kept his mouth shut and let things be. Aoi was being reasonable to him – after all, he had looked after him while he was ill. There was no need for Ruki to go open his mouth and bring all those horrible things he’d said back to the surface.  
  
Then again, what’s done is done and there was no point in backing out now. Ruki had started, he had opened the floodgates and now all that remained was the sole need to solider on.  
  
“My name is Ruki.” He held his hand out, painfully aware of the way that it shook ever so slightly. “I’m the oftentimes spoilt son of a murdered yakuza lord and I have the tendency to only see the worst in people; to judge too quickly and harshly.”  
  
Aoi shook his head, his eyes still out of Ruki’s sight. The taller man shifted his weight from foot to foot, his eyes roaming over towards the covered up window. He stared at it for what felt like forever, his eyes locked onto some visage that only he could see. It made Ruki paranoid.  
  
Somewhere in that time, Ruki lost his nerve. His shaking hand dropped, stopping flat against the top of the covers. There was no way that he could keep looking at Aoi, seeing that internal battle inside the man yet he found he couldn’t look away. Maybe it was penance for all his transgressions, for all the horrible things he had done and said to Aoi. When Ruki looked at it that way, he could hardly blame the other man his grudge. In fact, thinking on all that, Aoi would be insane to accept Ruki’s rather feeble attempt at an apology.  
  
And then Aoi stepped forward, reached down and took Ruki’s hand in his. Tight and warm, Ruki felt his heart lose control as Aoi’s larger fingers wrapped fully around his own. It was hard to tell if it sped up at the touch, or calmed at just how comforting it was not to be trying to kill the other man. Whether he was ready to admit this or not, Ruki could get used to this sort of treatment. Looking up at Aoi, Ruki was sure that the expression on his face said just that.  
  
“I’m Aoi,” the darkhaired man offered and Ruki could see the hints of amusement playing beneath his long eyelashes. “I’m a nerd who’s lived a sheltered life in a basement surrounded by computers and movies. It’s led me to make a lot of horrible mistakes; I want to correct them.”  
  
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Aoi.”  
  
“The pleasures all mine, Ruki.” Nothing, absolutely nothing could stop the smile that spread across Ruki’s face. He knew that he was doing it, knew that Aoi was watching and would probably think that he was an idiot, but he just couldn’t help himself.  
  
Aoi made no obvious move to let go of Ruki’s hand and for once Ruki didn’t care. He merely tightened his own fingers around Aoi’s and gave said hand an affirmative, defined shake. The action sent a tingle through his limb which spread all the way down to his chest. It fluttered and beat at his heart like some rabid butterfly with brain damage locked within his ribcage.  
  
Trying to find a way to hide the blush that was quickly forming, Ruki nibbled at his bottom lip, much like the way Aoi bit at his lip ring, and forced a smirk onto his face. That made things easier and before Ruki knew it, he was raising his eyebrows smugly while glancing back at Aoi. “Still doesn’t explain how you can drive like that.”  
  
Aoi shrugged, his bottom lip turning out slightly in a sort of grimacing pout that Ruki found oddly fascinating. “I used to boost cars when I was younger.”  
  
“Computer nerd indeed.”  
  
“We all have our odd little secrets.” The grin that spread across Aoi’s face then was something else entirely. Neither dark nor patronizing and somehow without a hint of mirth, it was just real. That was the only way Ruki could describe it; real and simply just Aoi.  
  
Chuckling lightly and tightening his fingers slightly, Ruki nodded against the pillow. “Indeed we do.”

**The End.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, at the end of all the things. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this trip down memory lane. I know I did. Please don't forget to give kudos, or comment (or hell, by me a glass of wine over at https://ko-fi.com/minka_ if you're so inclined). 
> 
> Those of you who were around back then know that there was a sequel, however, since I never finished posting it on LJ, I won't be archiving it here. Just know that things got darker and more complex, there was actually some smut, and someone major died. 
> 
> There was also a planned third fic, which would bring things full circle and, in a crazy twist, make the entire trilogy about Wataru which I always thought was a cool way to wrap things up.


End file.
